Don't Let It Be Love
by Yuki Winggates
Summary: Matthew, a gentle and shy boy that everyone believes wouldn't understand how cruel the world can be has a terrible secret. But one he can hardly remember. A wooden ring. Old scars. Terrifying nightmares. And gentle arms that hold him safe and warm.
1. Stranger

There will be art to go with the story for every chapter. .com/art/DLIBL-Ch1-Stranger-ART-190206093?q=&qo=

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

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~Stranger~

As the warm sun started to rise on a new summer day, drying the morning dew, the families of the tribe started their daily routine. Men prepared for the work that the day would bring them, young women started to prepare the morning meal, and mothers woke their sleepy children. An ever-familiar peace permeated the tribe. There had been little to no conflicts with the neighbouring tribes and no wars for many seasons. The abundance of the woods and rivers and the fruitful harvests of the Three Sisters: corn, bean and squash, kept them well fed. The tribe was grateful to have this time of peace and prosperity and prayed for it to remain.

At the far edge of the village was a tan longhouse. Paintings of many animals and spirits decorated it: two suns high on the side with a noticeably larger painting of an eagle and a buck flanking each other, and below a large brown bear with lavender markings across the face. Inside the longhouse, a mother cooed softly to her still sleeping children to wake up. One child, the younger, slowly arose, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

A sliver of sunlight reflected off the child's long, golden hair that reached the child's lower back. His mother loved to play with his golden locks, and he enjoyed the attention. Bringing his hands away from his eyes, the child opened them to look softly at the women, his mother. Between the bright blue eyes, the adorable face and the long hair, to the uninitiated, he would appear to be a young girl. But, he was indeed a boy. Smiling at his mother, he mumbled a sleepily greeting to her.

His mother smiled back sweetly, and then turned to the child still hidden under the fur blanket. Letting out a soft giggle, she pulled the covers of the child; she spoke in a gentle tone as two beautiful spheres of cornflower blue looked up at her sleepily. She gently ruffled the second small boy's gold hair; it was short and a mess from the boy's constant tossing in his sleep. He did not have trouble sleeping nor did he often have nightmares; he just was a squirmier while he slept, which sometimes made it difficult for the boy's brother to get some sleep.

Now with both boys mostly awake, she helped her children get dressed. It was still fairly chilly in the morning, so she clad them in heavier clothes. As the smell of a fresh cooked meal of the morning slipped into the longhouse, her shorthaired son started to bounce up and down slightly as his mother adjusted his clothing.

_Growing again, what a big boy you are becoming, my little Migisi_, She smiled to herself.

"Mama, hurry!" The boy was always in a rush to get a bite to eat; sometimes it was the only way to get him up in the morning. She giggled and nodded, giving Migisi a light pat on the head just before the boy darted out of their home, cheering with the thought of stuffing his face. She laughed at the boy's sudden energy when it came to food, but he was a growing boy. She then turned to her other son who was fiddling with something off at the other end of the house.

"Awentia." Her soft, beautiful voice caught the child's attention, making him jump slightly. Though a perfect voice for singing, she was a person of few words. Awentia quickly hid in a small bag what he had previously held in his tiny hands. He turned his head toward her shyly; she beckoned him over, holding a comb. Awentia slowly smiled, walked over, and sat down in front of his mother. She gently combed the long, slightly wavy hair. As she continued to groom her child, she started to softly sing. Awentia closed his eyes and happily listened to the familiar, comforting song. Soon, he found himself singing along to the lullaby for him and his older brother.

The song ended and his mother was finished with his now nicely braided hair. She then pulled the child's tunic over his head, and adjusted it. He pulled on his moccasins and was about to leave when he noticed his brother's moccasins were still there. Scoping them up in his small arms, he ran off to find Migisi. His mother smiled after her thoughtful son.

_Awentia is going to be a kind man when his grows up_, She thought happily.

Outside, Awentia looked around for his older brother, quickly spotting him sitting on the ground in front of one of his friend's houses. He made his way through the small crowd of people and some hunting dogs, and walked up to his brother. Migisi did not notice his brother as he continued to chat quickly and loudly to his friends. Obviously he was already done eating or otherwise he'd be like a chipmunk, cheeks puffy and still trying to talk.

"M-Migisi . . ." There was no response. "Migisi," Still no response.

"Bruder." Awentia gently placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. His brother quickly looked up at him, and then smiled happily. Awentia holds out the other's moccasins. "Here . . . you forgot 'em." Migisi looked at the footwear and giggled as he took them and slipped them on instantly

"Thank you, bruder!" Awentia merely nodded and walked off to find his mother. He wandered outside the village entrance and down a dirt path to the nearby lake, the Erielhonan. As he approached the lake, he took notice of a great brown bear watching over her two cubs as they ran through the shallow water, splashing, jumping, wrestling, and being typical little rascals.

He smiled and ran over to the cubs. The roughhousing cubs look up to see the little boy as did mother bear. Now, normally if a person, or anything for that matter came running in the direction of her cubs, mama bear would waste no time tearing their weak fragile body apart, and exposing their soft innards. But, oddly, she did nothing to stop the small child from pouncing onto one of her cubs. With a playful reply, the three of them rolled around on the shoreline.

_"Your boy has grown quite a bit has he not, Iroquois?"_ The she bear turned to look at the mother of Awentia. She had appeared without a sound like as if she had been there the whole time. Iroquois smiled with pride at the mother bear. Mother bear turned back in the direction of her cubs. _"I remember the first time you showed your sons to me. At first, I was surprised that they were born with hair like sunshine, eyes like water and skin like ripe baneberries."_ Looking up at the beautiful native woman. _"But, they have your gentle face."_

"My sons are my sons, and I would never change a thing about them." Smiling happily at the she-bear, Iroquois thought back to how her sons came into her life. When she had first found them, she too was astonished by their appearance. Migisi was found first, just a tiny bundle sleeping away in the hollow of a tree. She probably would not have found him if it were not for the birds chatting about a peculiar human in a tree. Most animals could sense that they were different than the other mortals.

Iroquois had looked after Migisi for ten years before finding Awentia. At the time, Migisi's appearance was that of a three year old. Spirits aged differently, how fast they grew depended on their people. Awentia was found when Migisi wanted to explore a northern cave on a whim. It just so happened to be the resting place for a male polar bear and a small child. She returned her attention back to her son and the cubs that were now chasing leaping grasshoppers in the green grass around the shore.

_" Iroquois,"_ Mother bear began, _"I have heard that there are more that look like your sons except mortal."_ She looked at the bear with a confused and concerned countenance. _"From what I know, they came from lands beyond the great eastern waters and have been increasing their numbers for the past generation."_

_That is about the same length of time that Awentia and Migisi have been with me_, she thought, _if new people have arrived and enough of them, a Spirit can be born. But, why are there two of them?_

"How many tribes are there?" She asked.

_"It is said that there are two large tribes of these great water people. One tribe has settled to the south of the other and they do not get along. Both are coming farther __inland."_ Two Spirit children and two new tribes mean that there are two other Spirits. It was a situation that could go badly very easily. She was deeply worried for her children. It could be good for them to meet the other half of their people, but they could be taken away from her by these two other Spirits.

She did not want that; she would not allow that. They were her sons and she raised them. She would continue to raise them. But, that might mean she would have to fight for them. Iroquois would rather not have to fight. But if she had too, these two foreign spirits would quickly learn why it was unwise to get between a mother and her children.

"Thank you," She finally spoke, hiding her worry. "I should have known that something was going on, with all the strange feelings I have been having." It came to her attention that this matter could not be ignored or avoided any longer. She took her son into her arms.

"Iroquois, keep your cubs close. You do not want a boar to take them from you forever." And with that the mother bear turned and headed into the lush forest, her young following her trail.

~~O~~

"Wwwwhhhhhhhyyyyyy?" Migisi complained for what must have been the hundredth time that day.

"I have to," Is all that their mother would say with the occasional, "You need to," towards the eldest of her sons. Pouting from the consistent response, he swung his legs back and forth in a scissoring motion as his mother packed. Awentia just watched quietly. Following her conversation with mother bear, it was decided; she was going away for a full cycle of the moon in order to find out about her new visitors. She did not have the heart to tell her sons. They were to stay in the village and not leave until she returned. She did not want to take the chance of one or both of them being taken away from her.

"I wanna come!" Migisi hopped off the bed and grasped his mother's skirt. She sighed and looked down at the boy.

"No, Ayashe. You must stay and watch over your brother." Iroquois spoke softly, using his nickname in an attempt to sooth him.

"Then why is Dibe in charge?" Migisi pouted. Dibe was one of the elders of the village and the village's medicine-woman. Migisi liked her but, he did not like that she could keep him from using his strength to run off and do as he pleased.

His mother sighed. "Please, this is very important Ayashe."

"But I wanna play in the fields."

"Ayashe." She was becoming frustrated. Migisi pouted and gave up. His mother was not going to let him leave the village until she returned.

_It was not fair, why did only he and his brother have to stay in the village?_ He thought as he sulked, _it was not like anyone was after them or their mother._

A greeting came from outside of the longhouse and Awentia hopped off the bed, followed in quick pursuit by his brother, and ran to the front with his arms open and an adorable smile upon his face. His brother caught up to see it was Dibe the medicine-woman.

"Why, hello there child." Dibe knelt down gave the younger boy a gentle hug. Awentia loved her company, and he enjoyed learning anything she would teach him.

"W-we're gonna spend lots of time together!"

"Yes child." She smiled and patted his head. He giggled with joy, but his brother turned away, rather bitter about the whole situation.

~~O~~

"What we gonna do today?" Awentia asked, excited. It had been a week since Haudenosaunee had left. Everyday Awentia was learning something new and was feeling very helpful. He learned how to properly clean and bandage wounds, to make medicine that helps with pain, to recognize herbs by smell, and to care for fevers. He was quite proud of himself and could not wait to show his mother what a good medicine man he was going to be. Dibe was surprised by the boy's accumulation of knowledge, but he was a Spirit like his mother. In reality, both boys should have been young men by now, but they aged much slower. It was just how they were and the people understood this.

"Nothing today child. Why do you not go and find something to do around the village or find your troublemaking brother?" She chuckled softly. Awentia frowned at first then smiled and left the house to find his brother. Since they were not allowed to leave the village, there was always someone near both the front and back entrances of the village and would not let them leave if they tried. The only one to try was Migisi, and he only did it because he could not climb the log fence that went all the way around the village. It had never been built for that purpose; it had been just left over from a war long ago.

He found Migisi around the back of one of the longhouses, looking very shifty as he glanced around to see if anyone was watching. Not noticing his brother's approach, he lifted a large rock that was three times his size, revealing a small exit just big enough for him to crawl through.

"M-Migisi?" His brother jumped and nearly dropped the rock. Holding it above his head with both hands, Migisi sighed when he saw it was just his brother.

"What is it?"

"What are you doing?"

"I am going out to play. I am tired of doin' nothin''" He was annoyed about not being allowed to leave the village. All his friends would bug him to go play in the forest and he would try to join them, but Dibe would catch him and drag him back to the house or where ever else she went. And he could not escape her; she would use some sort of charm on him that would take away his incredible strength.

"B-but Mama . . ."

"Won' know, I will be fine." He then turned his back to his younger brother, setting down the heavy rock as quietly as he could. "You coming?"

Awentia took a step back; he did not like getting in trouble. He shook his head, "I don' wanna get in trouble."

"You big baby! If you are quiet, you don' get caught. I am goin' now. Bye bruder." Migisi crawled through the small exit. He dusted himself off before running off into the woods. Awentia stood there staring at the small exit. He did not want to get into trouble but he did not want to be alone either. He quickly crawled through the hole after his brother.

"B-bruder! W-wait!" Migisi turned around to greet his look alike.

"Good, you are not a baby. Now lets play!" Migisi grinned and Awentia nodded. The two boys ran to their favourite place to play. It was a great meadow where they often found bear cubs and fawns to play tag with. But when they got there, there were no cubs nor fawns just some odd-looking tepees like the ones they had seen while with the plains people that followed the buffalo. The twins were silent as they looked out from the edge of the forest. Curiosity got the better of the oldest and he slowly headed toward the odd-looking tepees. Immediately, Awentia reached out and grabbed hold off Migisi's arm.

"D-don' bruder. L-let's go back; somethin' bad is here." His eyes were tearing up fearfully. Migisi did not like to see his brother so upset but, in his mind, he was being a coward. He did not understand what was his brother was so worried about. Awentia has been right before but . . . if Migisi had to admit it, he was always right about 'somethin' bad'. Nevertheless, Migisi was determined to prove to his little brother that he was wrong about this. Easily freeing his arm from the other's weak grasp, he ran toward the three tepees. He tiptoed as he walked past the first. Glancing from side to side, he observer that the camp was empty.

"Hmm . . . no one. Hey bruder, come an' see this!"

"N-no. Come back!" Awentia called out from his hiding spot in the bushes; he wanted to leave but he could not without his brother. Migisi happily explored the camp finding new and strange things: weird sticks with long arrowheads stuck to them, bright coloured clothes, headdresses that had lost all their feathers, and shiny gray stones, some flat, shaped like small spears, paddles, knives and bowls in all sizes. There was even a big shiny red bowl-like object, which Migisi liked a lot.

Picking it up by its handles, he giggled as he put it over his head. He could only see downward, and he took a few steps before walking into a wooden pole. He laughed as the large stone bowl rang on his head, making him dizzy. Moving backward clumsily, he noticed something bright at his feet. Kneeling, he picked it up and opened it. Migisi stared in awe at the cloth: deep blue with red and white crosses. Smiling, he decided that he would take it to show his brother.

Suddenly, a man shouted at him. Not understanding a word the strange man just said, but sounding angry and a bit surprised, Migisi turns around while lifting the red bowel just above his blue eyes. He was a little frightened but was more interested in what else he might find.

"H-hello . . . my names Migisi." He was trembling, but tried to smile as he greeted the two pale men standing before him. The first man looked around the small camp; it was a mess from Migisi's little adventure. His partner sighed, and then looked at the small child and back to his partner. He spoke in a softer tone and seemed to be on Migisi's side.

The first returned a shouting comment at his comrade and then he glared at Migisi, scaring him further. He pulled out a long, shiny tube and pointed it at him. Migisi remained, as he was unaware of the danger of the object. The angry man stared coldly. Suddenly, the kind man grabbed his comrade's arm, stopping him and speaking quickly. This only made the other man angrier, but he did nothing. The kinder man cautiously moved towards him, and in response Migisi took a step back.

He spoke calmly and softly, trying to get the boy to understand that he meant no harm. Migisi stopped and let the man approach him. The man smiled and gently took the large bowl from his hands and sat it aside. Looking a bit shocked, he then smiled and gently petted the boy's head. Migisi smiled nervously. They were not so bad, spoke a little funny but at least the one seemed friendly.

He grinned at his partner, who turned his head away, seemingly unimpressed, though he put his odd tube away and started to clean the camp. The kind man also began to clean up. As for Migisi, once the men leave him, he ran back to his brother to tell him all about the interesting stuff he found and about the funny talking men.

_"H-hey boy! Where are you going?"_ The kind man called after him but Migisi was already long gone. He sighed, _"Well, at lest we know where to find him."_

_"You are an idiot for not grabbing him!"_ His sullen colleague spat.

_"But I did not want to scare the boy."_

_"Quiet! Let us go get Sir Kirkland before that French bastard finds out the brat is here."_

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Thank you

AN: Ok sorry about all this but I got a Beta (WOOO!) and she was nice enough to go over my past chapters and help me fix them. Things of have changed but it still has the basic message being given. I hope you enjoyed it! A big thank you to my new Beta MonEros!

Let us know if we missed something~

Migisi: Cheyenne name meaning "eagle." (Alfred's given name from Iroquois)  
Ayashe: Cheyenne name meaning "little one." (Alfred's nickname from Iroquois)  
Awentia: "fawn" (Matthews given name from Iroquois)


	2. Friend

Chapter pic: hetaliacanada-fan. deviantart .com/art/DLIBL-Ch-2-Friend-Art-194021469

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~Friend~

Heavy boots could be heard running down the wooden halls towards his door. He sighed and continued his work. Probably yet another messenger for the General's office at the end of the hall, it would pass.

"Sir Kirkland!" A man shouted, out breath as he swung the door open.

"Aye, what is it soldier?" The shorthaired blonde glanced up at the soldier who had suddenly come running into his office, before returning his attention back to his papers. "This had better be important; I am rather busy at the moment."

"It is, sir! It is about that boy; we found him, sir."

Kirkland's green eyes widened, "You are certain?"

"Yes sir, he has blue eyes and blonde hair. He was also far from any settlement; I am most certain that this is the boy we are looking for."

"Good." He stood, placing his hands upon his oak desk. "Go and prepare for tomorrow. We leave at dawn!" The soldier saluted and then quickly left. "I am not going to let that French frog get to him before I do!" He promised himself.

~~O~~

As had been decided, he and ten soldiers had left at dawn. This was a precaution, as they did not know what trouble could happen, either along the way or when they finally reached their destination. Within two days, they arrived at the spot where the child had been last seen. Kirkland felt fortunate to have been so close. He wanted to start the search right away but, by the time they had set up camp and got everything organized, it was already midnight. There would be no point in running around in the dark looking for the boy. He sighed and entered his tent, kicking off his boots as he flopped down onto his cot.

"You 'ave such 'orrible tastes, mon Cher." A voice in the night purred. He jolted up, looking over at his desk. _How the bloody hell did HE get in here?_ The Englishman had to wonder. "What ees with zat look, Arthur? Do not tell moi you did not know I was following you." The Frenchman rested his chin in his hand as he leans against the desk while smirking at the Englishman.

"How the bloody hell did you-"

"Know?" He interrupts, chuckling. "I 'ad someone spah on you just een case somezing like zis were to 'appen."

"Bastard." Arthur growled.

"Now, now, do not be zat way just because you weel not be able to 'ave ze chance to take away mon petit garçon."

"He's not yours Bonnefoy, you wine drinking frog! You could not care for a child to save your life."

"And zis ees coming from zomeone 'o cannot cook? Hmm?" Francis tilted his head, smiling mockingly at him.

The Englishman grit his teeth, "There is nothing wrong with my cooking!"

"Zere ees a lot wrong with your cooking, mon Cher." Francis sighed and stood up, "Well, az much az I would love to stay et chat, I must get zome degree of rest eef I am to get up early to find mon trésor. Bon nuit, Arthur." He smiled as he left the tent, even though Arthur chucks a boot after him.

That Frenchman really wore on his nerves. "One day frog, one day."

~~O~~

"Awentia . . ." Migisi gently rocked his napping brother. "Awentia, wake up."

" . . . Why . . .?" Awentia mumbled and rolled over to resume his nap.

"Come on, he came back with frien's!" He began jumping around and being very loud, trying to get his little brother to join in on the fun. Ever since Migisi's encounter with the strange men, he had been going back there every day, though the nice man had disappeared. Over a week of repeated visits and being chased around, he learned some things, such as, muskets and pistols were not toys and were dangerous. And, not only did pots make lovely hats, but they also made wonderful sounds when you hit them and made the angry man, who Migisi now called 'Angry' for fun, want play tag you. It was Migisi's favourite game and he always won; Angry normally got bored or too tired to chase after him.

Awentia slowly sat up and rubbed his sleepy eyes. " . . . D-do I have to?"

"Yes." Migisi nodded quickly.

" . . . Nothin' bad is gonna happen?" His resolve was weakening.

"Nope! I will protect you." He promised.

" . . . Fine." Awentia gave in and Migisi jumped for joy, quickly running out of the house.

"Hurry up!" Sighing, he hopped off the bed, slipped on his moccasins and walked out after his brother. On his way to the hidden exit, Awentia overheard the other villagers gossiping as he passed by.

"Did you hear about the men that came from the east?"

"Yes, I heard they are looking for something."

"What would bring them all the way out here?"

"I heard it is a person they are looking for. Maybe that is why Iroquois left so suddenly."

"No. She said that she would return. And if she was running from these people, why did she not take her children? She was never one to abandon anyone."

"I am not saying- Migisi?"

He stopped walking and nervously turned around. "A-Awentia.."

"Oh, sorry. Where are you off to?"

"I-I am . . . playing hide and seek with bruder . . .?" He was never good at lying.

But he fooled this villager, "Very well, but be careful."

"W-we will." And with that, Awentia ran off to where his was brother waiting.

"What took you so long?" Migisi acted displeased. He pouted with his arms crossed like he had been left waiting for hours. Awentia did not reply. "Well, lets go." Quickly forgiving his brother, Migisi more than happily lifted the boulder off the small exit. The twins were soon running through the woods to the clearing. Migisi had a big grin on his face; he was so excited to see what Angry's friends brought with them. But was surprised when he felt his brother grab his arm while in tears.

"A-Awentia?" He frowned in worry. He did not like to see his brother cry. "What's wrong? Are you really scared?" His younger brother nodded. Migisi gently smiled and held his brother's hand. "Don' worry, if anything goes wrong I will take you home and never ask you to go back with me. Promise."

He remained quietly weeping before giving his brother a slight nod. "B-but . . . I-I think they are after mama."

"Mama? Why?"

"I-I heard people in the village s-say they are looking for someone."

"But did they say it was mama?"

"W-well . . . no . . ." He said as he looked at his feet. The villagers had not said that it was their mother these strangers were looking for. It just seemed odd that these men show up after their mother left so suddenly.

"Well, maybe it is someone else." Migisi smiled and gave his brother's hand a reassuring squeeze, trying to comfort him. Awentia smiled shyly at his brother; some tears still remained but he felt better now. They continued to the clearing, taking their time walking instead of running all the way there. Upon their arrival, Migisi nearly squealed with joy. But stopped himself; for one, only girls, or Awentia, squeal and two he did not want Angry to know he was there just yet. The camp had increased in size and many of new faces occupied it. Migisi could not wait to see what he found or, better yet, whom he could play with. He looked to his younger brother, eyes shining with excitement, "Ready?" Awentia replied with a small nod and tightly squeezed his brother's hand. He had a feeling that he was going to regret doing this.

~~O~~

"Bloody hell Bonnefoy! What are you doing in my camp?" Arthur shouted as he stomped up to the Frenchman. It was bad enough that he did not notice he was being spied on and followed, but why could not the Frenchman make his camp elsewhere?

"So I can see your face when I take mon garçon 'ome with moi." Francis grinned. Regardless of the matter, he just enjoyed antagonizing the Englishman.

"I've told you before. He is not your boy!" Arthur howled as he grabbed the other's collar and started to shake him back and forth roughly. This quickly led to their usual bickering, shouting, punching, and occasional strangling. But it did not last long, as the two were interrupted by one of Arthur's men.

"Sir?" His rough voice cut through the din.

"Yes. What is it?" He replied, sounding rather annoyed, more with the Frenchman than anything else.

"That child should be arriving soon." He said, showing quite a bit of disrespect towards his superior officer. Had the matter on hand not been as important as it was, the man would have been demoted. But, as soon as the man had said that, a childish chant was heard from somewhere within the camp. Arthur and Francis gave each other a confused look; they did not understand a word of it. But, the lieutenant seemed to be steaming with barely repressed rage. Truth be told, he had been listening to that silly chant every day since they had found the child, and it was wearing him down to his very last nerve not to kill the brat.

As the chant started to sound a bit louder and was a little clearer, Arthur and Francis began to search for the source of the unfamiliar child's voice. They zigzagged around the camp as they tried to chase down the boy, only able to catch small glimpses of the child. After a few minutes, Francis became frustrated from trying to catch the boy by following Arthur.

_Fool! While you chase 'im around 'opelessly, I weel wait et let ze ideeot lead mon garçon right to moi_. He chuckled and decided to head to his tent and wait for the boy to come running along. After all, the camp wasn't that big; he would reach his tent at some point or another.

As for Arthur, he was still chasing after the boy. "Hey, boy! Stop running!" He finally called out. Much to his surprise, the chant suddenly stopped and part of a head peeked out from the end of one of the tents. The boy's bright blues looked confused but curious as always. Arthur slowed his pace to a stop and crouched down, trying to make himself seem less frightening. "Hello there. Don't be scared lad, I won't hurt you." Arthur smiled softly.

Humming happily to himself as he entered his tent, Francis could not help but admire the elegant décor his living area had in comparison to that stodgy Englishman. Arthur was always so dull he didn't know how the man could put up with it. Francis relaxed in his chair and decided that a glass of wine would be appropriate right about now. As he reached for his bottle that was safely stored away in the drawer of his desk, he saw a small shadow rush by the side of his tent.

_Well, I certainly didn't 'ave to wait long. _Smiling, he stood up and snuck towards the entrance. He looked around and caught sight of a child with a long blond braid run and hide behind his men's tents.

"Too easy," He chuckled as he went around the other side. Peeking his head around the corner, he saw the child sitting on the ground, legs tucked into their chest. He frowned slightly at the sight; the poor child was hugging their legs and trembling. _Damn eet, Arthur. You didn't need to scare 'im senseless. You are too cruel sometimez._

"Are you alright mon enfant?" He asked softly, taking a step towards the child. But, not the least bit surprised by the reaction, the child squeaked, jumping up with eyes wide with shock and fear. The little one made a run for it, but got a foot tangled in the tent's support rope and tripped, pulling the tent down. The child shrieked, possibly thinking that it was a trap. Francis quickly went to the child and lifted the tent off of the quivering lump. Again the child shrieked, this time with tears running down round cheeks. "E-Eet's bien, zere's no need to cry!"

He knelt down and untangled the trapped foot. "Zere. See? Zere ees no need to cry, petit biche." He smiled gently and pick up the small child. Though squirming in the other's hold, the tot showed no sign of trying to escape. He held _le petit_ close. Frances could feel that he was holding a fledgling Nation; the sense was weak but that was just because the child was still so young, a colony in fact. Over time, the tiny being would become stronger and the sense would also. Francis petted the child's head gently to help sooth. As the child's trembling came to a stop, Francis held _son enfant _out to get a good look at . . . him . . . or her. He blinked many times, trying to decide. "Ah . . . You are a fille, oui?"

The 'girl' sniffed and wiped 'her' nose on the sleeve of 'her' shirt, and then gave him a confused look, clearly not understanding a word he has just said. Francis chuckled, "Well, I zoo not mind you are a fille. You weel look très mignon in un of mon dresses. Ah, papa's petit tresior weel be spoiled rotten!" He spoke with a high pitch tone with a squeal of joy as well, nuzzling 'her' into his chest. The child squealed in surprise and slight fright from the man's actions.

"Francis! Stop that girlish squealing this instant!"

"Oh, but Angleterre, I can 'elp myself! I am feeled with joy et 'appiness. Mon cher enfant ees just too adorable to be true!" He says happily as he nuzzles the small child's face and turns around to face the Englishman. Both Arthur and Francis' eyes widen in astonishment; they were each holding a child.

"Huh?"

"Well... Arthur, zere looks to be deux... Twins eet seems. " Francis observed. Both had the same blue eyes, blond hair and cherubic faces.

"Um . . . W-well of course there is. I knew that there had to be. You are an idiot for not realizing that." Arthur laughed nervously.

"I tink not. You are ze ideeot, trying to claim to know zat zis would happen. Humph."

"Ha! Hardly a concern frog, you are stuck with a girl! How humiliating!" Arthur pointed to the child in the other's arms and started to laugh. Francis glared at him.

"Et, what ees so wrong weeth 'aving a petit fille, mon cher?" Gritting his teeth, he had some choice words he wished to say to the so-called gentleman. But, he would not use profanity in front of the children. Instead, he looked down at the shy child in his arms.

The cutest thing he ever laid eyes on, and 'she' looked so much like her Papa too. Yes, he was looking forward to being a Papa. "Hmm, you weel need a name, mon petit fille. Eef you were a garçon, I would 'ave called you Mathieu. So, Madelaine eet ees. Oui, mon petit Madelaine weel be as belle et aimable as un ange." Francis, quite happy with the name of his new child, kissed Madelaine's forehead gaining a small squeak from the child. He chuckled and hugged 'her'. "Ah, ma cheri! You make mon coeur stop weeth 'ow mignon you are!"

Arthur grunted; Francis always found a way to be melodramatic. But he was right about one thing; they needed names. He looked down at the boy he was holding. A bit surprised to see the boy had taken his hat, Arthur smiled and took the hat from the boy and put it back on his head. The boy pouted and looked off to his twin.

_What name should I give the lad?_ Arthur stood there thinking momentarily. "Alfred." He finally said, after the great medieval king. The boy returned his gaze back to the English man, with a confused look. "Yes, Alfred. That will be a good name for a lad like you." He patted Alfred's little head. The touching moment was suddenly interrupted. Something whizzed past his head. The camp went silent. He glanced around and froze when he saw his hat impaled by an arrow that was embedded in a wooden tent pole. He instantly became enraged.

Turning his gaze in the direction in which the arrow came, he snarled, "Who dares to attack me?" Narrowing his eyes on his opponent, Francis also glared at the attacker, to the mundane, a beautiful native woman wielding a bow. But Arthur could sense what she was, a Nation just like himself, Francis and the children they held. "What do you want?" Arthur sneered and held the boy close. Neither noticed that the boy was speaking nervously in a native tongue.

"Children mine." She growled angrily, her eyes tinting from deep brown to violet. Violet markings started to appear on her face.

"No." Arthur replied fiercely.

"My boys." Her eyes narrowed and she grabbed another arrow, drew her bow and aimed for Arthur. "Let go, I miss not." She ignored the fact that she was out numbered and out armed.

Using his other hand, Arthur reached for his pistol. But the woman did not give him a chance to draw it. She let the arrow fly and it struck him in his left shoulder, missing Alfred's head by a couple inches. The shock and pain from the projectile made him buckle, Alfred slipped from his grasp and landing next to him.

"A-Arthur!" Francis stuttered in shock. Alfred, wide-eyed with fear, got up quickly. He winced as the Native woman yelled at him. Frightened, he ran over to the woman. Holding his bleeding shoulder, Arthur painfully sat up and glared at the woman. She aimed for Francis next, ignoring the fact that the commotion has caused the other soldiers to gather, armed and waiting for the signal to fire at will.

"My son," Her voice remained stern, and her message was clear even if her English was substandard.

_Son? Well lookz like I've got myself a son after all._ Francis smiled sympathetically, trying to not raise the woman's ire further, and gently placed his son on the ground. Petting his head, he bid the boy farewell, "Au revoir Mathieu. I will see yew soon. I apologize for meestaking yew for a girl, but yew really are très mignon." The boy blinked at him before running off toward his brother and, Francis assumed, mother. She picked him up with one arm and began to walk away, Alfred close on her heels. "Mon beau dame, may I ask of you your name?" He asked before she got to far way.

"Iroquois." She replied without turning around and continued to walk into the woods.

"Beautiful woman she eez." A lascivious grin inched its way across his face. "Zis eez going to be an interesting couple months."

"Get your head on straight you perverted bastard." Arthur grumbled, far too livid at the moment to properly admonish the Frenchman. But he was correct; it was going to be an interesting couple of months or maybe even years. The fight for the boys had just begun.

* * *

Thank you

AN

Hello everyone. Yet another chapter edited by MonEros! There will be an edit on ch. 3 soon, hopefully by the end of this week and then back onto ch.5!

And a big thank you to -YourTruly-Ice and Nameless-kun for helping me out with France's accent~!

A review would be fantastic! I'd like to hear what you think!

Translations 

_Moi_ **I**

_mon _**My**

_petit _**garcon Boy**

_trésor _**Treasure**

_Bon nuit _**Goodnight**

_Enfant _**Child**

_Bien _**Well/good/okay**

_petit biche _**Small deer**

_fille _**Daughter/girl**

_Angleterre _**England**

_Deux _**Two**

_mon cher/ma cheri _**My dear/ My darling**

_belle et aimable as un ange _**Beautiful and lovely as an angel**

_coeur _**Heart**

_mignon _**Cute**

_très _**Very**

_Au revoir _**Goodbye**

Migisi: Cheyenne name meaning "eagle." (Alfred's given name from Iroquois)  
Awentia: "fawn" (Matthews given name from Iroquois)

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.


	3. Village

~Village~

"M-mama?" Awentia whispered nervously as his mother carried him home. He frowned when his mother did not reply. She was livid. The brothers knew they had done wrong; they had been caught outside of the village when they had been forbidden to leave.

Migisi hung his head in shame; he felt horrible. He knew that it was his fault. His brother had never wanted to come along; he had warned him repeatedly to not leave the village. Migisi had told his little brother that he would protect him and keep him out of trouble. But he had failed him, and they were both in deep trouble now.

He tugged at his shirt nervously before speaking, "M-mama . . . I-it's not Awentia's fault-"

"You both will explain to me later why you left the village after I have dealt with our new _guests_," Iroquois said firmly and Migisi closed his mouth with a click and was silent the whole way back to the village

~~O~~

The first few months no one dared to make a move in fear that it would bring harm to the children. Iroquois had moved herself and the children to a lakeside house that was a decent walking distance away from village. She did not want the villagers to be caught in the middle of it.

Arthur, still bitter over Iroquois' attack, was the first to make a move. He had approached Alfred while the boy was playing in the lake but was quickly chased off by an angry bear. At first, he had assumed that there were cubs nearby. After the fifth time it happened, Arthur was beginning to think that Iroquois was behind this. He had never wanted to bring his firearm with him; he did not want his boy to fear him, but this time he had to. The bear was getting in the way. The Brit slowly made his way through the woods, on high alert for the bear.

Eventually, he found and shot it. At first, Arthur thought he had killed it, but realized he had missed his mark when it attempted to lumber away. The boys were playing together nearby and the sound of the gunshot caught their attention. Not knowing what it was, the boys had come running.

Francis' boy, (Matthew? He believed that's what the frog had called him or at least some sort of warped French version of the name), had started crying at the site of the injured beast. He ran to the bear's side while speaking to it in his native tongue. Alfred, on the other hand, did not take kindly to this; he plucked a nearby tree from the earth with little trouble. Arthur quickly learned the hard way that making Alfred's brother cry was a huge mistake.

"A-A-Alfred. Y-you put that tree down this second!" But Arthur's demand fell upon deaf ears and the boy charged at him, swinging the tree wildly. Wide-eyed in shock, he turned tail and ran like the Wild Hunt was at his heels instead of the child that pursued. By the time he had outpaced the child and reached camp he was panting, perspiring, and muddy. While removing the foliage clinging to his hair and clothing, Francis had wandered into his camp again. Arthur related what had happened, and the frog had the audacity to laugh.

It would be a couple of weeks before Arthur tried again. The boy's actions from last time had left him slightly fearful, though he would never admit it, of his next encounter with the small child. Surprisingly enough, Alfred did not realize that it was him that shot the bear. Now that the bear was out of the way, where ever it may be, Arthur could get closer to his boy. It took many long and painful weeks before Arthur had gained the boy's trust. He had begun teaching Alfred small things like basic words, ones that he had objects to visualize with, and Alfred seemed more then eager to learn all he could from the man.

Simultaneously, Francis had also started to sneak off to visit his son. Mathieu, the shier of the two, did not stick around when they would show up; he ran off instead. Francis had to literally sneak up on the boy just to see him, which tended to scare the poor thing to death. It took some time, but eventually the boy became accustomed to the Frenchman and Mathieu would stick around until Francis unintentionally frightened him off.

One day, Mathieu had run off yet again, but this time in tears. Arthur would have mistaken him for Alfred if it were not for the fact that the boy was standing right next to him when it happened. He could not put his finger on it but something was a little different about the boy. Alfred had quickly followed after his brother, giving Arthur a chance to speak with Francis.

"Francis! What the bloody hell did you do to poor Matthew?" He shouted as he stomped up to him. Francis gazed over at him, maintaining the same blank look.

"I juz . . . cut 'ez 'air; a petite trim." He replied as he held up a mirror in one hand and scissors in the other.

". . . What?" Arthur took three large steps back, expecting Alfred to come charging out of the underbrush with another tree at any moment. Or worse, Mama Iroquois to return with her bow and arrows; if she did, it was the frog's turn to get skewered.

"I juz cut 'ez 'air, 'e looked so much cuter wiz eet a leetle shorter. 'E did not seem to mind. But when I showed what eet looked like in zee mirror, 'e started crying and took off. I 'ave no idea why."

"Maybe your little hair cut was horrible." Francis scowled at the English man before he huffed and rudely walked away. The next morning, to Francis' dawning horror, a huge chunk of his hair was cut off the top; his beautiful hair was in ruins! He practically cried at the sight. Refusing to leave his tent without a hat, he blamed Arthur for his _horrible coiffure_. Following that incident, Arthur approached his boy a little more warily and Francis saw no sign of his _petite garçon_ for two weeks. When he finally did, Mathieu was as terrified as he was the first time they met and Francis was forced to regain his trust once more.

~~O~~

A question had been building in the boys' minds since the strangers had arrived but they could not bring themselves to ask their mother until one night, just before bed. ". . . M-mama?" Awentia voice was barely heard but his mother could always catch it. She turned and smiled softly waiting for him to continue. He tugged at his much shorter hair nervously. "W-what are they?" Migisi looked up at his younger brother in shock.

Their mother only looked confused. "Who?"

"Th-those men that . . . t-try to see us. What are they?" Iroquois blinked a couple times before she responded to her little one.

"They are like us, Spirits of the land. But their land is far, far away. You felt that there is something different about them, right?" He nodded; he did feel that there was something different about them. The young nation recognized the older nations even if he could not quite verbalize it. But that was not what he was asking. She spoke softly as she sat closer to him. "Do you remember what told you about what we are?" Awentia looked away, trying to remember what it was their mother had told him.

He ran his hand across the ground. "W-we are the spirit of the land the people live on. Land is our body . . ." She nodded. "Rivers and lakes are blood. A-and animals and people is life and where they live is the heart." Awentia placed a hand over his own heart as he looked back up at his mother.

"Yes Awentia. We are the souls of the land our people live on. Without them we could not live. If people are suffering we become weak and sick. It is our job to watch over and help the people as much as we can in return. It is all Spirits' responsibility. Does that help?"

"I-I think, but . . ."

"But what my little Ayasha?" She gently petted his head using his nick name as a comforter.

". . .Why do they look like us?" The boys had always stood out; physically they had resembled no one in the tribes until the strange men had arrived. Awentia's hair was even wavy like one of them. Iroquois became quiet. She had not expected them to be asking about that so soon. She frowned slightly, it was time to tell them, whether she liked it or not. This was her land, the men had come here and thus the boys were born from the motherland.

It was the way things worked, but normally only when they do not have any encounters or if both Spirits are male. She had known when another Spirit had place a foot on her land, but she did not expect that she would have children because of this. Children of their kind were rare, even more so when a couple wished to start a family and not just by accident. The chances of baring children remained incredibly low. Sighing as she returned to the subject at hand, seeing as that would be a topic for another time when they old enough to understand. She looked at Awentia and then to Migisi who seemed to want to know just as much, if not more than his younger twin.

"They are your fathers." She finally said.

"F-fathers?" Migisi repeated in shock. Awentia's only response was to become wide-eyed.

"Yes." She replied calmly. Millions of questions were running through the boys' minds. They had not had a father before. Sure their village friends had fathers and would sometimes learn things from them, but it was not the same. It had seemed like to Awentia that he was just sitting there thinking for hours, when only a couple of seconds had rolled by before he spoke up.

Surprisingly, he was a little louder than usual, "D-do you know the weird-man-talk!"

She blinked at first, a little surprised from Awentia's question, "A little, why do you ask?"

"H-how do I say father in weird-man-talk?" He quieted and becoming his usual shy self.

"Papa," She replied in French. She was displeased having to speak, let alone teach, a foreign language to her children, but half of her children's people spoke a different tongue and they had every right to learn and understand it.

"'Pa-pa'" Awentia repeated, trying the word out on his own tongue.

"A-and me?" Migisi asked, quickly sitting beside his mother and looking up anxiously.

"Father," She replied in English. The boys were excited about the prospect of having a father, but she still did not want her children to go near them. And, as much as she disliked the idea, they needed a father to play a role in their lives, and she had to let them spend some time with the interlopers.

~~O~~

Francis walked along happily, humming a tune; he was on his way to see his cute little boy. It brought a smile to his face every time. But he frowned as he remembered that every time he would come to see his little one, the child-nation would run away scared. He could not comprehend why Mathieu was so fearful of him. All he ever did was smother him in love, feed him only the best French cuisine and give him an adorable haircut. Alfred seemed to be bonding very well the self-proclaimed gentleman Arthur and his cooking skills could kill a nation. But, it was definitely his boy seeing as Alfred seemed more than fine with eating the grotesque food.

"Oh my cute leetle Mathieu," Francis sighed sadly, "Why do you run from moi? Je veux seulement ce qui est mieux pour mon petit garçon." He continued walking, with his head hung in sorrow, starting to think that trying to see Mathieu was hopeless. _Why does 'e not love me like Alfred loves Arthur? Am I really zat terrible wiz raising children?_ He was pulled from his thoughts as he realized that he was in the field that Mathieu often played in. Often, he would have had to sneak through the grassy field and grab Mathieu before he had the chance to run away. But seeing as he was standing in the middle of it, he must have been too busy with his thoughts to realize that he had scared off his son yet again.

"What a horrible day I am haveeng! Je devrais renoncer à faire peu de Mathieu à m'accepter comme . . ." He had trailed off as he had turned around to head back to his camp. But, he froze, unable to believe his eyes. Mathieu was standing a few feet from him, trembling mind you, but he was not running. Francis was too worried to move, thinking that the slightest movement would frighten the boy away. They stood there, just staring at each other for minutes on end. Mathieu casting a glance towards the woods every so often, possibly thinking of running and Francis did not so much as twitch an eye brow. Nothing could have prepared him for what was coming.

Mathieu gripped his shirt tightly as he took a step closer, "P- . . . P-papa?" The child's voice wavered between fear and curiosity. Francis' mind went blank and everything seemed to stop; he could not believe his ears. Just when he was about to give up trying to get the boy to accept him, Mathieu had approached him of his own volition and had called him Papa.

Francis could not stop his lips slowly curling up in a soft smile, "Oui." His voice was barely a whisper. It was most likely that the small boy did not know what he was saying, but he must have understood something. The French man barely had enough time to catch the boy as he came running towards him. Mathieu had willingly embraced him.

"Papa." The boy said and buried his little head into Francis' chest. Francis' smile only grew as he wrapped his arms around the boy's small body and pulled him closer. When he was in the mood to annoy his beloved Arthur, he would rub it in his face that Mathieu was the first to call him Papa. Despite Arthur and Alfred getting along so well over the months, and the Brit teaching him his (ridiculous and complicated) English language, the boy had yet to call him father. But infuriating Arthur would come later; currently, he was far too busy with his darling, shy son.

"Mon Mathieu. Mon doux petit Mathieu." Francis glanced up for a moment to see Iroquois look away and disappear into the woods. He knew that she would let her sons see them now, but she was not going to give them up that easily.

~~O~~

Over the months that passed, Mathieu and Alfred spending more time with their fathers than each other. The boys use to be always seen together, but now they only time they spent together was when they were at home. Spending time with the fathers started out just a couple hours a day and slowly progressed to almost the whole day. Both Mathieu and Alfred were taught their other language, every day they would practice. As they got better and the communications between the growing families became easier, the bond only got stronger.

The first few times the boys came home with clothes that Francis and Arthur had given them to wear, Iroquois was very tempted to throw them in the fire and watch them burn. But has much as she hated the boys' fathers, she could not hurt her children. Her sons were more than happy to have a 'complete family'. Once, and only once, Francis had dared to make some moves to try and flatter her. She gave him a thorough beating that he would not soon forget.

Weeks turned into months, months into years and the village that the twins had lived in moved to somewhere far from the French and English camps. The camp that Arthur had set up (and Francis invaded) became a headquarters and years later a small town. Iroquois on many occasions had to attend to her people and reluctantly had to leave her boys in the hands of Ogin (so named for the flower he carried) and Chepi (named after the tiny nature spirits that attended him). She refused to speak a word in their tongue, including the men's names. This only angered the English man more. As for Ogin, he seemed to have it stuck in his pretty little head somewhere that it was a term of endearment and meant that she cared for him.

Fortunately, she would always know about where they were, no matter how far away she was from them. It was one of her abilities, something she had inherited from her mother. As long as anyone remained in her land, she could find them if she had seen their face at least once. She had never left her land so she was not certain if she could use this ability on another Spirits' land. It would come in handy if Ogin or Chepi had the guts to take Awentia and Migisi from her lands. They would regret the day they set foot on her soil if they so much as tried it.

Her eyes were another ability she had; they were a deep brown with flecks of violet. But only during a sudden rush of emotions did the violet of her eyes become visible. They let her perceive the silent words of animals, through body language and other ways the human ear or eyes overlooked. But as much as her abilities gave her an upper hand with finding out what was going on with her sons and their fathers, she was not as fast as she wished she was.

Ogin must have had a death wish; he was taking _her_ Awentia east. Spirits were faster, stronger and sometimes had added abilities that humans did not have but they were not gods. Iroquois did not make it in time to stop Ogin from taking her Ayasha to his land. She had made it to the sea coast only to catch the final glimpse of the ship disappearing from sight. Crying out with all her might, she called her son's name. Iroquois was torn between sorrow and unstoppable rage. Someone had to pay.

She took off towards the south; Iroquois would not lose both. Taking her wrath out on Chepi, she destroyed some of his camps and a few towns before attacking him directly. Iroquois broke down the door of the Englishman's house with ease and stormed through the house for the shorter man.

"What the bloody hell do you think you are doing here? Tearing down my door-!" Iroquois pounced on the English man the second her eyes were upon him. Her violet eyes glowed with unadulterated rage; she had him pinned on the floor, punching and clawing at him until he was bleeding all over the floor of his house. She mauled Chepi like a mother bear protecting her cubs. Chepi had tried to defend himself but she was both larger and stronger than him and running on adrenaline and fury. He had little power in her land.

It was not until Migisi started screaming at her did she stop. Covered with quite a bit of English man's blood she took her eldest son and held him close. Migisi screamed and wailed at her for hurting his father, but became silent when he took notice that his mother was crying and shaking.

"Savage!" Chepi growled as he tried to sit up. His arms shook from the pain of fresh wounds and broken bones. She said nothing as she stood and ran from the Englishman's house with a very confused and upset Migisi cradled in her arms.

~~O~~

Francis returned after five months to find that the Brit was at war with Iroquois. It was not a full out war but more of a hit and run. But he was not even in the country for more than three days before he was jumped by the furious native woman and received the same beating, if not worse, from her. Arthur had gotten to him just in time to keep her from taking Mathieu with her like she did with Alfred.

The attacking, running and fighting for the children continued, but Iroquois was only able to hang on to them for two years before she was overpowered by the French and English armies. The invading countries began to take more and more control. Iroquois, not wanting to sacrifice anymore of her people, surrendered. But they could not stop her from trying to see her sons. Both men disliked the idea and would chase her off with the help of some soldiers. But, over time, they let her see the boys under supervision.

During one of her visits, Francis noticed that the woman was paler than usual. He did not think much of it and soon forgot about it. It was not until the boys came running into the house one day did that he realized there was something wrong. They were crying and panicking; their mother had collapsed.

~~O~~

"Mathieu go to sleep." Francis stated, somewhat displeased as he tucked the little one in again; the boy would not go to sleep no matter what he did. His brother had fallen to sleep with ease after Arthur had read them a story.

"B-but mama-" Mathieu sat up with a worried look almost on the brink of tears.

"Eez fine, Mathieu. You can go see her in zee morning, alright mon petit?" He laid the boy back down and pets his small head. Mathieu turned his head, pouting slightly; he was not one to make a fuss when he did not get his way but he felt something was wrong and that he needed to be with her. Francis sighed and then said in a gentle tone, "How about zeez, if you go to sleep right now, I'll help you make her somesing for breakfast in zee morning."

Mathieu looked up with teary eyes and nodded, "Oui, papa." Then he finally closed his eyes, pulling himself close to his stuffed bear, Kumajiro. The white bear was about the same size as him.

"Bon garçon. Dormez bien." The Frenchman kissed his forehead, making sure he is fully tucked in. Winters were cold in this land and, even though the boy has lived in these cold climates for years with his mother and brother, he did not want to risk the chance of the boy becoming ill. He checked on Alfred next, the boy was a restless sleeper and was sprawled out over his bed; he chuckled softly and pulls the covers up. "Votre main une pleine peu." The candle on the nightstand between the boys' beds was extinguished, leaving only the soft glow of the full moon and fireplace's embers to dimly light the room. Taking one last smiling glance into the room, he closed the door silently.

~~O~~

Iroquois reclined in her bed, breathing heavily, and sweat coated her feverish brow. Her people were having a hard time this winter and she, in turn, became weaker and very ill. She knew in her state that she could not hold _her_ off this time. But, she also knew that her children were safe because if they did not see her, she could not see them. As long as they were kept hidden at a young age they would be forever safe. She thanked _him_ for protecting them from _her_. Even if it was too late for her, the next generations would be safe from _her_ wrath.

At least her boys would have Ogin and Chepi to protect them even after she was gone. Opening her eyes slowly, as a tear rolled down her cheek, she wished that she could see her children grow up and become the men she knew they would be.

"Migisi... Awentia..." Her voice was as weak as her body. The room was quiet; only a few embers remained glowing, the closed curtains blocking out the moon. She turned her head towards the window as she hears the sound of flapping wings and caw of a crow from behind the pane.

Iroquois' eyes widened when she heard the croaking voice demand, "_Give me my child back_." _She_ was here.

~~O~~

Mathieu could not fall asleep no matter what he did; he was just too worried about his mother. He sat up, looking around the room; Alfred was still sleeping. He stared at the door for a bit and decided he will go see her one last time before he went to sleep. He attempted to silently slide off the bed but slipped and landed on the floor with a small thud. Being so young, he began to cry. Alfred was woken up by the thud and looked over his bed.

He saw the whimpering Mathieu on the floor and, still half asleep, begins to laugh, "Cry baby," He mumbled.

"M-meanie," Wiping his eyes as he got up and fixed his nightgown, he reached up and grabbed his ursine companion, dragging it along as he continued towards the door.

"Where are you going?" His brother asked, now awake enough to survey the proceedings.

He replied quietly as he tried to open the door, "I'm going to see mama."

"You're going to get in trouble," Alfred admonished before he rolled over and went back to sleep. Finally getting the door open, Mathieu scurried quietly down the hall to Iroquois' room. When he got there, her door was ajar. Quickly, he glanced in.

"Mama?" She was not in the bed. Frightened, he raced down the halls looking in every room, but she was nowhere to be found. He began to cry anew. Did his mama leave and why? A white crow sat in a tree outside the parlour window, scrutinizing him. It looked like it was made of the very snow that had blanketed the landscape. Mathieu did not notice it until it cawed. He looked over, his eyes widening as it cawed once more and flew off into the still night.

Rubbing his eyes, he raced to the front door with renewed determination. Staying here and crying was not going to help him find his mother. Mustering his courage, he jumped up and grabbed the bar of lever-style door handle with both his little hands. The door opened with a slight squeal as he hung off it. Releasing it, he dropped down onto the front stoop as the door handle clattered. Shivering from the cold and grabbing hold of his bear tightly, he then ran out into the snowy night.

~~O~~

Arthur got up to get something hot to drink; the home seemed chillier than usual and he despised the cold weather. Yawning as passed the boys' room, he stopped suddenly. The reason why took a moment to penetrate his sleep addled mind. Confused, he walked back to the room and looked in.

"That's odd. Francis said he closed this door." He walked quietly up to Alfred's bed; he smiled as he sees the boy sound asleep. Then, he looked over at Mathieu's bed, but did not see him. "Matthew?" He lifted up the covers, looking for the small boy. "Matthew?" Starting to panic, he turned to wake the boy's brother. "Alfred! Alfred, wake up! Where's Matthew!"

"E-em..?" He rubbed his eyes and yawned, "H-he's gone to see mama."

"Iroquois!" Arthur snarled and quickly ran towards the woman's room. Normally, he would not have worried so much if it had not been for the past few weeks. He had this feeling that he should hide or run as far as he could from here and it seemed that he was not the only one who felt it; Iroquois, despite her illness, was on the defensive and even Francis was anxious. It was like there was something out there, watching them or stalking them. The Englishman would never admit to his terror, but instinct told him that something was hunting them.

~~O~~

Mathieu was wet, muddy and marred with various small cuts and scratches as he crunched through the snow following the faint tracks; Kumajiro was in no better shape. Though he was young, he could easily read sighs in the ground, on plant life and sometimes even in water, having lived in the wilderness for many years before his mother found him. Tracking had become an instinct; he was familiar with the land and its dangers. Even as he started to run short of breath, the thought of Iroquois pressed the small child onward.

_I have keep mama safe. Mama was there when I was sick, hurt . . . Mama . . ._ Tears ran down his cheeks as he wished he had been there for her, _I'm sorry!_ As he continued through the brush, he came to a small clearing. Standing in the middle of that clearing was his mother.

~~O~~

As Francis and Arthur rushed to get their gear on, Alfred watched, deeply worried, and asked sadly, "Is Mattie going to be okay? A-and Mama too?"

Arthur petted his head, "We will try our best to bring them both home, Alfred. Now I need you to stay here and be a good lad." Alfred nodded weakly, tearing up slightly. Arthur smiled and gave the boy a gentle kiss on top of his head.

"Angleterre we must hurree!" Francis reminded, impatient and worried, as he grabbed his musket and threw the sling over his shoulder. The thought of his petit garcon out there in the snowy wilderness clad only in his night clothes was like a kick to the stomach.

"I'm coming Francis." He turned and the two rush out the door, leaving Alfred alone in the dark house.

He could not stop thinking to himself, _Why didn`t I stop Mattie? Why couldn't I save my mother? Why? _He was not one of the heroes in Arthur's stories, though he liked to pretend he was. He wanted to be a hero, but sometimes it seemed hopeless. _Why can't I help anyone? _Alfred began to sob into his hands.

~~O~~

"Mama!" Mathieu squealed happily as he started to run towards her.

"Ayasha?" She replied, shocked as she turned toward him with wide eyes. She was not expecting her son to follow her, "You should not be here! Go home!"

Mathieu froze; he had never had his mother yell at him before. "I-I..." Not understanding her anger, he could not finish and began to cry again, hugging his stuffed bear close. Iroquois frowned; she had never meant to make her son cry, she was just afraid of what might happen if he stayed. She gently took him into her arms.

"Listen closely Ayasha," Taking what little time she had, she gently and sadly explained to him what she could, "I-I have to leave." She was terrified, not only for her sake but for her sons. Gently, she wiped the tears off his face.

"F-for how long?" Still trembling, he looked up, frightened that if he did not she would disappear again.

"Forever."

"W-why!"

"Awentia." Interrupting gently, she replied, even as tears formed at the rim of her dark brown eyes, "I am sorry that I will not be there for you and your brother. I wanted to watch you two grow up into the good men I know you would be. B-but I cannot. I'm sorry to leave you so soon; there is so much for you to learn." Her throat ached as sorrow weighed heavily on her. "I hope Ogin is good to you, and that Chepi will teach Migisi well."

There was nothing that could change the fact that Iroquois could not stop _her_ this time. Instead, she attempted to remember all the good times she had spent with her sons and her only wish was she had spent more time with them. When the other Spirits came, it was only natural for children to be curious. She should not have been so clingy and made wars as she tried to keep them from their fathering Spirits. It had only made things harder on them.

"You're not happy with us? I-is that why you're leaving!" Mathieu begged, on the edge of panicking.

"No. I am very happy with you two." Smiling the best she could, she still remembered the day she found him and his brother. She was blessed to have to have such wonderful boys and she would never forget them.

"T-then stay! Mama please! D-don't leave! Mama! P-please, please! I love you! I'll do anything!" Tears streamed down the boy's face, his heart felt like it was being torn apart. "P-please, mama!"

"Keep your kind heart, Awentia. Let it guide you." Gently stroking his hair, she kissed the top off his forehead.

"S-stop it! Mama pwease!" He clung tightly to her, but she pulled away as she stood up.

"Tell Migisi to be strong and to watch over you for me." Tears roll down her face, she only regretted not having a chance to say goodbye to her other son. She turned and started to walk away.

"M-mama!" He ran after her.

"Go home."

"Mama please!" Releasing his beloved bear, Mathieu wrapped his arms around her leg, his whole body was shaking.

"GO HOME!" She barked harshly at him, hoping that one day he would forgive her for her actions. The time was almost nigh and he could not be here. _She_ would tear him apart if given the chance. Mathieu flinched and released her leg. He looked up at his mother, trying to see her face, but she would not face him. "Go home, Anwen-Mathieu . . . Go. Home." She continued walking, leaving her son behind to cry in the snow. His father would be along shortly, and as much as it pained her to do this, it was the only way she knew how to protect him.

"Ma-!" The boy's words were cut short, as he was accosted by a furry of black feathers. A crow the size of an eagle rushed him and sent him plummeting down into the frozen, snow covered ground. He struggled to get back up, but the crow returned.

"NO! IT IS I THAT YOU WANT!" Iroquois' shouted as she quickly returned to her son, ripping a bough off a tree as she passed. No one harmed her children. The demonic bird subsided for a moment before cawing as it slashed its talons across his back. Mathieu screamed in pain. A branch cut through the winter air, knocking away the fiendish avian. It flew into the blackness as Iroquois gently took Mathieu into her arms. Checking the wound on his back, he cried out again as she probed it. Thankfully it was not too deep; with a little care the boy would be fine.

The crow suddenly appeared once more, looming over Iroquois. It sank its vicious talons into her shoulders. She cried out at the sudden pain as the crow flapped its powerful wings and dragged her onto her feet. A shocked Mathieu tumbled to the ground. She gritted her teeth against the agony; her branch was too far to reach. Instead, she attempted to pry the claws out of her shoulders while taking swings at the creature. It cawed loudly as it tightened its grip.

A splatter of warm fluid lands upon Mathieu; it takes him a moment to realize that it is gore. The crow had utterly shredded Iroquois' right shoulder. Wide-eyed in sheer terror, he was not fully processing what was happening. His thoughts raced, _This can't be happening. It's all a bad dream. It has to be! It's not real!_

"AWENTIA! RUN!" Iroquois demanded, but his legs refused to obey. With a strident shriek, the crow morphed into a giant black wolf and lunged toward the staggering woman. Favouring her injured arm, Iroquois grabbed the bough once again and swung at the creature making contact with a dull thud. Back and forth, they circles as blood painted the snow red. Exhaustion and illness finally caught up with Iroquois and the wolf got a lucky strike; it lunged, pinning Iroquois to the ground. She lost her branch, but seized the beast's fang filled maw. It snapped at her hands, leaving them bloody, and sank its teeth into her throat.

"NO, STOP IT!" Mathieu heard the yell, only to realize that it came from him. At the noise, the wolf pulled back slightly before chomping down on her neck once more as Iroquois desperately tried to stop the beast from tearing her throat open. "STOP! STOP HURTING MAMA!" He grabbed the closest rock, and flung it as hard as he could at the wolf's head. The cold stone connected with the creature's black eye. That caught its attention. It yelped in pain and turned its sights on Mathieu, leaving Iroquois broken on the ground, her chest slowly rising and falling.

"Please, please . . ." Iroquois gurgled up at the sky as blood trickled from her mouth down her cheeks, _Please keep him safe, Laksótha. Keep him hidden . . . make him undetectable . . . make him unmemorable . . . _She prayed that Laksótha had heard her. Something made the wolf stiffen for a moment and back away. Mathieu crawls over to his mother, horrified at the sight.

"Mama?" He whimpered. She turned to him, her eyes darkening. She did not have much time.

"A-Awentia . . . T-tell Migisi . . ." She turned her head to the side as she coughed up blood. She had to finish her message, "I will forever . . . love you . . . both, my . . . boys." Bringing up a shaky hand, she gently stroked the boy's cheek, smiling sweetly. "Now, Run." Memorizing his face for the last time, the light in her eyes faded as her hand collapsed into the bloody snow.

"M-mama? Mama!" Mathieu urgently shook her back and forth, trying to wake her. "MAMA!"

~~O~~

Francis and Arthur ran as fast as they could through the snowy forest. Mathieu was still so young and fragile; they hoped against hopes that he was unharmed. It was not that long ago that they had heard screaming that had made their hearts freeze, and they headed in that direction. The screams and other noise had been horrible, but it was worse when it went quiet once more. The silence was unbearable. The only sounds were the snow crunching under their boots and the faint sound of a crow cawing off in the distance.

~~O~~

The wolf glared at the child, blood matting the fur beneath its wounded eye. Currently the boy was clinging to his mother's dress, sobbing helplessly. It started to growl, and he turned his tear streaked face at the animal.

"This is your fault!" Mathieu accused, pointing at the lupine creature. Its growl turned into a snarl, and he recalled his mother's warning. He hauled himself up unsteadily and began to run. The creature lunged, chased him down and easily pinned the small child down into the snow with one paw. It stepped on him roughly and growled into his face to obtain compliance. He squeezed his eyes shut. Turning away from the boy, it looked over at the woman's body, waiting for something. When it seemed that nothing would, Mathieu began to struggle again.

Mathieu had opened one eye slightly when, suddenly, something odd happened; violet lightning danced across Iroquois' body before it shot upwards. The wolf jumped up and tried to catch the bright light, relieving the boy of the pressure. But it split into three branches and jumped away from itself. One bolt of the violet light came at Mathieu. It quickly sank itself into his eyes, turning them a rich violet. The boy shrieked in pain; his head felt like it was going to explode. Everything was burning.

"_Imprudent child born of woman, raised by man!_" An angry, female voice boomed from above him, "_Weak worm made of flesh and bone should know its place!_" It snarled harshly. Mathieu looked up in horror; he heard every word but the wolf's mouth remained closed. The wolf swatted him with her large paw. "_Weird Myann thing. Thou look as if . . . thou understood me._" She pressed her paw down on his small chest and leaned in, puzzled. He whimpered from the pressure but kept at least one eye locked with the wolf. The small child's glower felt like a challenge and she pressed down harder. Mathieu squeezed his eyes shut from the pain. "_Give me back what is mine! Give me back my child!_" She growled at the small child. Mathieu mumbled something in defence, his voice cracked and strained. "_What did thou just say?_"

Mathieu swallowed and tried to speak louder, "Y-you . . . you're not . . ."

"_Ha! What would a child of a myann understand? Thou's kind had taken my children away from me! Death will come to all flesh beings!_" Confused and frightened, Mathieu's tears ran anew. He did not want to die. She remained quiet for a moment. _If I kill the worm, my child will be passed down yet again. I grow tired of this game_, She thought. "_Yes . . . I will keep thee. I will have all my children._" She shifted into her avian state again. "_I will take thou back home and take good care of thee._" She carefully wrapped her talons around the boy's upper arms, making sure she had a firm grip; it would not do to drop him.

"No! Leave me alone!" He did not want her to touch him; he reviled this bird. "I hate you! Go away! You killed mama! I hate you!" He cried and began to strike the crow. She ignored his feeble blows, and began to fly away.

"_Thou will understand in time. I will save my children from the worms that took thou away and made thou one of them._" Soaring above the sleeping forest, Mathieu was alone and lost; there was nothing he could do, no one to help him. His tears had frozen on his cheeks.

"MATHIEU!" He blinked at the sound of his name and looked below. His eyes widen at the sight of Francis and Arthur.

"Papa!" He cried out with all his might.

"Hang on Mathieu!" The two began to pursue as Mathieu called out for his papa. Both Francis and Arthur began to panic as the boy was carried farther and farther away.

"Francis! Shoot that bloody bird out of the sky already!" Arthur demanded. Francis flinched, having forgotten the musket strapped to his back. He pulled it off, prepped it and aimed carefully. "What are you waiting for?"

"ANGLETERRE!" Francis snapped, "I do not want to hit Mathieu! Now follow zat bird so you can catch him!" Arthur took off into the trees, and he aimed for the huge black avian. He steadied himself and a shot rang out. She shrieked as the bullet pierced her shoulder, but instead of coming closer to the ground, she picked up speed and altitude and banked hard toward the clearing.

"_Stupid fleshlings! It will take more than stones to kill me._" She cawed angrily, though they would not understand her. If she was not busy at the moment she would have killed them both.

Mathieu wondered why everything he loved being taken from him; Mama, Papa, Alfred, even grumpy Arthur. Both men were soon out of sight. Francis pulled himself to his feet and continued pushing his way through the thicket, following Mathieu's fading cries. He nearly ran into a motionless Arthur standing in a clearing.

"Why 'ave you stopped?" He demanded. The Brit just pointed at the scene of carnage. "Iroquois." He choked out.

"Have you ever heard of a bird that big?" Arthur asked numbly.

"Ze locals, zey speak of ze _animikii_, a great bird that controlled ze weather. I thought it was just a myth."

"The thunderbird." Arthur nodded. Something caught Francis' attention from the corner of his eye; Kumajiro abandoned on the snow. He picked up the bear and dropped to his knees. The dam burst and he began to weep into the stuffed toy. Mathieu was gone.

* * *

Thank you

This concludes all the updated chapters and now the new ones can come out. All thanks to a wonderful beta, MonEros~

Let us know if we missed anything.

Translations

Je veux seulement ce qui est mieux pour mon petit garçon: I only want what is best for my little boy

Je devrais renoncer à faire peu de Mathieu à m'accepter comme: I should give up on getting little Mathieu to accepting me as

Mon Mathieu. Mon doux petit Mathieu: My Mathieu. My sweet little Mathieu

Mon petit: My little one

Bon garçon. Dormez bien: Good boy. Sleep well

Votre main une pleine peu: You're a hand full little one

Laksótha: (Oneida) Grandfather

Animikii: (Ojibwa) Thunderbird

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.


	4. Wilderness

~Wilderness~

The wind howled as the she-crow raced through the sky. It was becoming much colder. Mathieu did not know what to do anymore. He had no idea what was or what was going to happen to him. But, he knew he did not want to go anywhere with this shape shifting she-crow. He wanted to be as far away from her as possible, but he had no strength to fight back; it had been lost with the sight of his family. Mathieu's eyes, filled with despair, burned. It was not long before the falling snow had made it impossible to see the world below him, and blinded him of any hope that someone would see him.

Hours passed. Mathieu watched the wind twist two nearby gentle flakes of snow into a more solid form. He blinked in confusion as it softly constructed itself into a bird's head. It looked too real to have just been sleet. Flakes formed snowy wings that flapped as it grew, and it seemed to be coming closer. His eyes widened at the sight of the giant white crow tearing its way through the blizzard towards them, the same one he had saw before he left the house to find his mother.

"_Vitani!"_ A man's voice boomed, and with it Mathieu's eyes grew slightly wider. "_Return that child back to his home!"_

"_I am taking the child home!"_ Vitani, the black crow, was startled by the white crow suddenly close behind her. "_Our home! Where our children belong!" _She screeched.

"_He does not belong-!"_

"_Are thou going to abandon thy children, Sloan?"_ Vitani dove to avoid the other trying to take Mathieu from her. The he-crow dove after her, noticing that the small child is barely responding to any of this. Sloan worried greatly that if he did not get the boy somewhere warm soon, he would come to great harm.

"_Return him; he is not well!"_ He screeched, ignoring her question. He would have time to explain his actions later. Vitani continued to swerve and dive out of the other's grasp. Mathieu winced at the sudden movements. Growing angry with the white crow, that was keeping up with her, Vitani dove sharply. She tore through the frozen clouds, flakes spiralling out of their peaceful fall. Mathieu wanted to scream, but had no voice left and his mind was clouded with fear.

"_If thou do not bring him home, than I shall take him from thee!"_ The man's voice boomed as he dove after the black crow. It was easier for him to chase the other; the extra weight of the child slowed her flight. He would take the boy from her, by force if he had too. Mathieu hesitantly reached out his small hand toward the snowy crow. He had no choice, either take the chance of returning home or be trapped forever with the midnight monster. The opalescent bird was his last beacon of hope. Vitani felt the child's movement, angering her, but she refused to release him. She flew into the snowy forest below, swerving over branches, around trees, but Sloan stayed close on her tail even as she skimmed over the snow covered terrain.

Recovering some of his fighting spirit, the boy struggled in the other's grasp. It would not slacken, which left only one option. He bit down as hard as he could on the giant crow's foot. She yelped. Her grip loosened and Mathieu took advantage of it as he tugged his arm free.

With all his weight on one side, Vitani's balance was immediately thrown off. Pulled sharply to the left, her side smashed into the trunk of a tree. Mathieu's right sleeve ripped, dropping him down from the tree. Finally finding his voice, he screamed and closed his eyes tightly, in dreadful anticipation of hitting the solid snow beneath him. His three metre drop ended abruptly when he is engulfed by freezing water. His skin stung from the cold as the strong current quickly drags him downstream.

Mathieu struggled to keep his head above the surface and gasped for air as he tumbled helplessly in the river. He was so cold, that his skin took on a bluish tint. The pain subsided as he had lost almost all his feeling in his tiny body. Losing strength, he was nearly knocked unconscious as he was battered against the submerged rocks.

_Help. Someone help me! _His mind begged as he slipped under the water, too weak to fight the current. His lungs were ready to give in and breathe in false hopes of air. He could not bring himself to the surface; so lost in panic, Mathieu did not even notice another in the river until something grabbed the back of his night gown and hauled him out of the water. He gasped, coughing as he choked on water.

"_Hang on!" _A woman's voice commanded, muffled by the rapids. Still terrified, he was grateful for his unknown saviour. She gained her footing and hauled him back to dry land. But, even though he was out of the water he was not yet out of danger. The wind made his drenched clothes freeze against his skin. The stiff fabric was cut, torn and ripped in so many places that it was a miracle that the fabric was still mostly in one piece. But, even it has its limits and it was tearing as it tried to bear his weight. He was gently placed down onto the snow before being picked up again. There was a moment of confusion when he felt teeth tightly hold him. Mathieu looked up with tired eyes.

"W-wolf...?" He whispered before his eyes lost their battle with exhaustion and he fell into a numbing sleep. A quiet stillness reigned over the frozen hinterland.

~~O~~

"That is enough!" Sloan shouted as he tossed the midnight woman into the snow. Her star-lit hair sprawled across the blanket of powder. Vitani hissed as she stood and jumped at him, her body twisting into her powerful wolf form.

Though he swiftly jumped out of the way, she chomped down on his lengthy white mane. As she landed she yanked the hair roughly, causing him to collapse into the snow. She leapt at him, just as he begun lifted himself from the ground, and sank her fangs into his jugular. Blood painted the snow as he roared in pain. Grabbing a hold of her jaws, he forced them apart. Vitani whined and yelped as her jaws cracked from the pressure. Still holding onto the she-wolf's jaws, he whipped her around and flung her into the trunk of a tree. Her form returned to a human state.

It did not take long for her to recover; she was onto her feet in seconds, glaring at the snow white man before her. "Sloan." She growled. "Why do thou interfere?"

"I cannot let this go on any longer. Vitani, this needs to stop." His voice was strong, but gentle.

"Never! I will never stop. Not until they pay for what they have done! Not until I have returned our children home!"

"Thou have done enough! No more myanns need to die."

"No. All myann fleshlings need to perish!" She started to circle Sloan, he in turn doing the same keeping a good distance away from her. "They took our children from us! And what could we do? Nothing!"

"It is not our place-"

"Not our place? Not our place! We had every right to protect our children." Enraged, she shouted at the man.

"But it is the law that a god can not touch another's children. Failing to obey that law will lead to painful consequences."

"I could care less for the law. Those walking flesh sacks carry no bloodline with their gods; they had killed off that bloodline a millennium ago." She huffed. "I will continue to make the myanns suffer. Their weak shells of flesh cannot protect them, nor can their gods." She paused and glanced at him angrily. "Can thou believe that those worms sealed thy children to weak flesh? And what is worse, they put a spell on them making them want to stay with them. Make them seem happy with the curse they had been given!" She snarled, but then slipped into a deceptively sweet smile. "Do thou wish to know what happened when I found our little daughter?"

"That I know Vitani. She wanted to stay with the myanns, with her family." He answered.

"Family!" Vitani howled. "What family? She was a slave to those lowly myanns! She had to obey them as if she were a dog."

"She had a daughter, our granddaughter!" He roared back at her in rage. "When she would not return with thou, thou killed her! Killed thy own daughter! And now thou have killed thy granddaughter as well!"

"That child was not thy granddaughter! Thy daughter is not dead; those myanns continue to make vessels to seal her away so we cannot have her! I have yet to find thy son as well!"

"Thou will not find them." Sloan growled at the woman.

"What?" She glared at him.

"Thou will not find them, Vitani." He said more softly.

"What makes thou say that Sloan?" She grinned. "Are thy thou saying that myanns are smarter than I? Stronger? More powerful?" She gave a sharp laugh.

"No." He looked away towards the river that the small boy had been swallowed by and then back at the woman. "But I am."

Her eyes widened. "What . . . ?"

"Thou have not figured out why thou cannot find them? The reason thou cannot is because I have blinded them. Your granddaughter knew this. I have done this to all of our children."

"Bastard!" Her rage boiled over. Her own husband had betrayed her! The only one who shared her sorrow, her pain, her joy, and her love. No, no it was all a lie. He did not love her! He did not care about his family at all! He was letting the myanns have their way!

"They will not see thee and in turn thou will not see them. It will do the same to me."

"Why have thou done this!"

"Thou does not understand, does thee?" Sloan said sadly. She did not realize the meaning of his actions at all. How could he make it clear to this woman, blinded by her hatred?

"I understand perfectly." She growled as she shifted back into a black wolf, her obsidian eyes filled with rage. "_Thou have abandoned thy family and betrayed the ones that loved thee!"_

"No." Sloan sighed and shifted into a great white lion. His powerful paws sank into, and almost merging with, the snow itself. "_I am protecting our family."_ He spoke firmly and held his head with pride. Vitani let out a howl and lunged toward him.

~~O~~

Mathieu could feel the soft soil beneath his bare feet and wondered when it was that he had lost his socks. His hazy mind concluded that the fur blanket must have just tugged out from under him like always by his brother. Mumbling for Migisi to stop hogging the furs, he fumbled his small hand around looking for the end of the blanket. Finding it, he pulled it under him as best he could. Though exhausted, he wondered if he had just woken from a nightmare. It was the only explanation for how he ended up back home, sharing a bed with his brother. His body demanded more sleep now that he was finally comfortable. He complied until a stinging pain suddenly shot through his body causing him to yelp. He cringed and griped the fur blanket as tears welled up.

"_Sorry, little one. I was trying to clean your wound." _A soft, motherly voice whispered into his ear.

_Mama! _Mathieu looked up at the voice, remembering the terrible nightmare he had just had. He knew that his mother was not dead. "M-mama, I-!" He stopped. A pair of gold eyes stared back at him.

Even in the dimly lit den, he realized that it was not a fur blanket he was holding on to. It was large gray wolf, and he was clinging to her tail. He froze. Mathieu had played with wolves before, but only after his mother told him that it was safe. She could speak to animals. But ever since her death and the lighting, even now, he was hearing voices.

Those golden eyes saddened, "_I_ _am sorry little one, but I am not your mother." _The she-wolf gently licked away the tears coursing down his cheeks that he had not realized that he shed. He had cried so much he could no longer feel the warm wetness that ran down his face. "_I take it, with those sad drops of salt water and wounds that your mother is no longer alive. Did she die protecting you young one?"_

Mathieu closed his eyes tightly, trying to stop crying. Everything was real, his mother was dead, he was stolen from his family, and that awful crow. It was that crow's fault! Everything was her fault. He could not take it; he wailed and buried his head into the wolf's pelt. The she-wolf gently nuzzled the boy as she cuddled him trying to comfort him.

"_Shh shh, there, there little one. I know it is hard to lose a mother. But you have to be strong._ _You're all on your own now." _Wounded, heartbroken and completely exhausted, it was not long before he drifted off into peaceful, empty sleep. No nightmares, no dreams, only empty nothingness. The she-wolf looked over the boy with sad eyes. For a child to lose their mother was a hardship that would trouble them for years. But at the moment the child needed nurturing. He was probably not going to be willing to eat when he awoke.

~~O~~

The garden, a verdant paradise, had contained a vast variety of flowers and trees. The flowers were almost entirely white; the tips and edges of the plants were various pastels. It was contained in an odd world that looked as though it were made completely of clouds; it was home.

"Mother, may we please go to the surface?" A little boy asked as he ran up with two of his sisters following behind him.

"No, thou are still too young. Thy race is not yet ready to leave and begin the journey." Vitani replied softly as she tended to some flowers, holding her youngest in one arm. Her beautiful cloud white hair draped around her reflecting skin, and matching her eyes which glittered like stars.

"Aw, but Mother, we promise that we will behave." One of the girls whined pleadingly.

"No buts." She said with a smile. The children pouted, though this was no different from any other day.

"Stop pouting. It is not thy mother's decision, it is the Creator's." Her husband walked up to the family in the garden. The woman smiled and stood up to greet him with a loving kiss. The children turned to one another and stuck their tongues out in disgust. Their mother laughed. It was a sweet, gentle laugh.

_When was the last time I heard thy laughter? _

The father turned to his oldest and only son. "How has thy training been?"

"Good, father." The small boy grinned happily; he looked no older than eight.

"Excellent, now take thy sisters and help them with their controlling." His voice was firm from millions of years of living alone and emotionless. But, when he spoke to his family, there was a hint of gentleness.

"Here, take thy sister with thee." The mother handed the baby girl to her eldest daughter.

_I loved our way of living. _

The boy nodded and took hold of his second youngest sister's small hand. The children giggled as they ran off out of the garden.

_It was so peaceful._

His wife than turned to him with a soft smile, "Are thou not pushing this training on our children?"

_When was the last time I saw thy smile?_

"Can it be called training if our children enjoy it?" Sloan smirked.

She giggled and began to walk away. "Thy punishments are no greater." Smiling again, he grabbed her hand brought it to his lips. A light glow of sky blue crossed her star white face. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

"I love thou, Vitani."

"And I love thou, Sloan." His wife replied softly. They both flinched when they heard something unusual, like an explosion mixed with thunder, neither of which ever occurred in this realm. "What was that?" Vitani asked.

"I am not-" One of their children screamed. Instantly, they started running. They tore through the garden to the field where they would train their children. The previously green grass was almost black in many places and red lighting danced over the ground. This gave no clues to what had happened or who was responsible for this. Sloan could not believe another god would be injudicious enough to mess with his realm. Even worse, his children were nowhere in sight. Rage flooded him and he wondered exactly which god had a death wish.

It was against the laws of the Creator to touch other gods' children. If caught, the judgement fell to the parents, and if Sloan had his away, there would be no reprieve for them. He was the oldest next to the creator, almost brothers, but he was the last to get a wife and family. While the others were handed a wife, Sloan had to ask for many millenniums for his beloved. While the others were given the choice to have children, to make a race that may live in the world their Creator had built, he had to prove to the Creator that having a family of his own would also help benefit the world.

He was not going to tolerate anyone under ANY circumstances touching his family. Those spoiled gods that did nothing to work for their families had no right! Sloan's ire made the ground shake. His veins glowed dark blue beneath his translucent white skin while his alabaster eyes tore across the field looking for the bastards responsible for this.

"COWARD!" Sloan roared, "Show yourself and I _may_ make my punishment on thou last only a few thousand centuries!"

Vitani noticed some movement at the far end of the field. "Sloan! There!" The earth beneath them shook as they tore apart the earth towards the spotted movement. Both parents charged; they were not about to get away. Chunks of the white soil and rock were sent into the air. As the ground split, bright oranges, pinks and yellows glowed from below. Pitiful beings squealed like animals as they ran.

_I loved our family. _

It took precious moments to reach them; Vitani went after one as Sloan was just about to attack another straggler. As the beings face turned at him in fear, the god's eyes widened and barely had enough time to stop. They were myann. Vitani had grabbed hold of the one she had chased down and was pinning him to the ground as he screamed in a foreign tongue. Sloan ran to her and pulled her from the myann's body.

"Sloan! What are thou doing?" She screamed in confusion and panic. The myann looked at them in horror as he squirmed backwards before standing and running off after the others.

_And I still do._

"NOOO! Our children! Our children!" Vitani fought for release from her husband's grip as the myanns got farther and farther away. Tears cascaded from her eyes. Her mind demanded to know why was this happening and why was her husband stopping her. And most importantly, why was he letting them escape and where were her children being taken? "Let me go! Let me go! My children!" She cried in anguish and continued to struggle.

"Vitani! Stop, thou must not touch another's children." He said sadly as he slowly dropped to his knees. "Thou cannot do anything to harm another's children." He held his wife close. His body shook and for the first time in all of his creation he cried, silently and slowly.

_No matter how broken it may be now._

~~O~~

Snarling she ripped the lion's throat open again and dark fluid splashed the snowy ground. Sloan roared painfully and collapsed. Shaking, he attempted to rise, but his legs refused to obey.

"Pitiful." Vitani spat out the chunk of white flesh, "Thou did not even try to fight back." She glared at the fallen lion before her. Sloan was covered in wounds from her attacks, but Vitani had nary a wound from him upon her body.

_He wants thou to stop, but does nothing, _She thought coldly, _Sloan, thou are weak and lost, no longer the powerful god that I was made for._

"Thou are no more the great God of Soals! Leave me alone to reclaim my children, or meet your demise. Then, I shall take the _true _role of the God of Soals!" She growled and turned, running down the river bank to find the child that she had taken.

As the snow continued to fall, Sloan hoped his grandchild had gotten out and far from the river by now, as he watched as the black pelt of the she-wolf disappeared into the snowy night. He knew that he was not good with emotions, but, there was one feeling he was well acquainted with: loneliness. At that moment, he had never felt more alone in his entire existence. Not only had he lost his children, but also the only one that had loved him. She was lost to the hatred that had consumed her.

_Why can thou not see what thou have done? _

_What has happened to thee. _

_My beloved Vitani._

* * *

Thank you.

:EDIT: Now fully updated and beta-fi-ed~~ Wooo! Now with chapter 3 fixed up a bit and sent off to the wonderful beta, chapter 5 can finally be continued! About time right? Sorry about that everyone... Life's been getting really busy with work and planning/getting ready for college. ^^; I will try harder to write more often!

OH! And on another quick note, I have decided to leave the name of the next chapter at the bottom of the page. :D I think it will be interesting to see what happens~

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

**Chapter 5**

**Stray**


	5. Stray

~Stray~

Mathieu shifted so he could be more comfortable. He was awake; he just did not want to get up. His mind was filled with frightening thoughts of what that horrible, monstrous creature, the one called Vitani, would do if she found him if he left the den. And besides that, it was freezing out there; he could not understand why it was so cold. There was not any wind, but he always felt a deep chill in his bones that refused to subside. He opened his eyes and stared at the dirt in front of him before running his fingers thought it. This was not his home; this land was new to him. It was nothing like his papa's land, nor his own land. This earth felt rough but yet somewhat soft, like old becoming new. His own was thick and soft. With a soft sigh he slowly sat up and looked toward the entrance of the den. It must be almost noon at this rate.

_When is Wolf coming back? _She had left earlier this morning but having to wait for her return was starting to scare him. Terrifying thoughts filled his mind: what if she never returned? What if he was left all alone in this strange land? What if he died here? Tears began to sprout from his eyes. He did not want to be left alone. He just wanted to go home. A shadow jumped down in front of the den's entrance. He flinched and covered his mouth to stop himself from screaming, fearing that the monster had once again returned for him.

"_Are you alright little one?"_ The wolf asked as she slipped into the den. Mathieu relaxed as he saw it was only Wolf. Uncovering his mouth he nodded. He was startled but that was all. She sat down in front of him. "_Are you cold?"_

"A-a little," Mathieu replied and stepped closer, burying his head in her mane. Her fur was a bit coarse but it was warm. He was always cold.

Wolf nuzzled the boy closer and asked gently, "_Are you hungry?"_ Mathieu shook his head; he was hungry but he did not want to eat. The thought turned his stomach unpleasantly.

~~O~~

_Mathieu lay in the snow, watching the snowflakes fall. He had always enjoyed the winter; it was always so pretty. Sure, it was almost unbearably cold a lot of the times, but there was always something fun to do too. The sound of snow crunching caught the boy's attention, breaking his thoughts. He rose from the snow, looking around the sleeping trees for the source of the sound._

"_Who are you?" He asked softly as he spotted a woman step into view. Tall and beautiful but sad; she was crying and spoke softly, too softly for Mathieu to hear. "I-I'm sorry. I can't hear what you're saying."_

"_. . . My son . . ." Her voice began to rise. It rang softly though out the woods like chimes in the wind. With the woman's few words Mathieu fell into a state of shock. On their own accord, his feet moved towards her._

"_M-mama? Mama!"_

"_No! Run away my son! Run! Run away be-" Time seemed to stand still as a sudden rush of wind blew the snow off the ground and into the air. The harshness of the wind and snow blinded him, only barely protecting his eyes by covering his face with his small arms. But as quickly as the wind came, it left._

"_Mama!" Mathieu looked forward but could only see the snow as it felt back to the earth. As he took a step forward to search for his mother, his foot came in contact with the ground and fear shot through him. The ground beneath him contained no snow and no grass only ashen, cracked soil. He tried to escape the tainted soil before him, heart pounding in terror, only for it to chase him with every dusty step he took. The boy looked up as he pivoted only to find that the whole floor of the forest was the same. In that moment Mathieu realized that the forest was not sleeping, it was dead. Dead land was a dead country. Why did this happen? Why was it happening? "Mama!? Mama where are you? I-I'm scared. I'm scared . . . Mama."_

_Trembling as he stood, he began to cough, deep, painful coughs that racked his frame. Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe? He watched as the snow returned to cover the ground but still the dead soil beneath it refused to be hidden. The gray still showed through. Mathieu's coughing continued as he stumbled forward. The dead land was all around him with no escape in sight so the only thing he could do now was find his mother._

_He finally reached the spot where he last seen her. Glancing around, he searched for tracks or some sigh that she was really here. Just as he was beginning to doubt what he saw, he noticed someone laying on the ground just a few steps from him. How did he not see her? Three quick strides; he was by the person's side. But, the prone form was not his mother; indeed he could not quite tell if the person was male or female._

"_Are you alright?" He asked, as he gently placed a hand on her shoulder. When he received no response he asked again but this time with a small shake. "It's not a good idea to sleep in the snow; you will get sick." Growing frustrated, Mathieu pulled his hand away. If she wanted to sleep in the snow, then fine but he did warn her. He dusted the snow off his shoulders, only to be confused when it just made them dirty. He did it again, this time with his hair, and the same thing happened. The boy looked at his hands. To his utter amazement, they were filthy like he had just stuck his hands into the fireplace after a fire had burned out and cooled. Mathieu's eyes widened. That was not snow, none of it was. It was ash. That was why it was so hard to breath, why he was coughing. Realizing the growing danger, he took off as fast as he legs would let him, calling out for his mother as he ran. A forest fire, if this was indeed the case, meant he needed to get out of these woods and quickly._

"_Return what is mine!" A familiar voice screeched from far behind. Mathieu dare not look back. He knew who it was; the monster, Vitani, had found him again. _

"_Run! Run away!" Iroquois' voice rode the wind through the lifeless woods._

"_Mama is that you?! Where are you?!" Mathieu just wanted this horror to end and to be safe in his mother's arms once again. Let it end, please just let it end, his mind pleaded._

"_Looking for something worm?" The monster's voice taunted. Drawing the boy's attention to her for a second, her form was triple the size from what he had remembered. Held tightly in her jaws was the bloody form of Mathieu's mother. The boy was petrified, unable to even find the will to cry. She chuckled, "Thou should not have stopped running. Now I have thee within my sights and do not think thou will be getting away this time." She looked to the gray sky; crows were gathering and circling until they completely obliterated the sky. Suddenly, Mathieu was ambushed by the hundreds of deafening crows. Lost within the frenzy of black feathers, Mathieu screamed in pain as he was being stripped to the bone._

"_Papa! Papa, help me!"_

"Papa!" Ice bit at his cheeks and eyes. His heavy, panting breath was the only sound to be heard. Hands grasped outwards in to the darkness that offered no comfort to the terrified child.

"_Little one." _He felt movement under him; jumping away he crawled away till he was faced with a barrier he could not see. He panicked, patting the surface in hopes of finding a hole, a crack, anything that he could escape through. But he could find no such thing; he was trapped. "_Little one, it is all right-"_

"S-stay away! Don't come near me!" Mathieu spun around and pressed his back against the wall. The forgotten wounds on the boy's back gave him a painful reminder as something dug into them. He yelped as he pulled away, some of his wound reopened from the movement. "W-why are you doing this!? Why did you kill my Mama? S-she never did anything wrong! Why!" Mathieu sobbed, wiping his tears on the only sleeve he had left. He began to hiccup, "Why? I- I just want to go home."

"_Mathieu, I don't know who did this to you or your mother. I only wish I could take you home. But, listen now,"_ Paws softly padded the earth as she approached the shell-shocked child. Cautiously she lay in front of him, but did not touch the boy. "_I will do what I can to find someone who can help you. Do you understand?" _Mathieu only nodded, still too shaken up from the nightmare he had just witnessed. "_Good, now come little one. You'll freeze at night if you don't stay close. I promise nothing bad will happen while you are with me."_ It took a moment for her unspoken words to settle in the boy's thoughts before he finally moved. He clutched her pelt.

"Papa . . . Alfred . . . Arthur . . . I want to go home." He whimpered sleepily. The wolf understood his pain; she too missed her pack.

~~O~~

"Um, Wolf?"

"_Yes?"_

"I feel bad for only asking now, but, what is your name?"

"_Name? I have no such thing."_

"What? How can you have no name? D-did your Mother not give you a name o-or your Father?"

"_You sound so worried over something so unimportant, but you are kind little one. I thank you, not everyone is so caring."_ Wolf said softly and licks the boys head affectionately. "_But there is only one living thing that wants to give something a name. Your kind little one, your kind names things to understand, to own. Easy to become frightened of not knowing what something is or understanding what something is. I see no need to name something; it is what it is."_

"Not even yourself?

"_Not even myself. My kind and I have little use for names; we can identify ourselves without. But, I have been called many things by those who hunt me and my pack."_

Mathieu felt bad even if he had done nothing wrong. "Um, but then what do I call you?"

"_Call me whatever you like little one. I do not mind."_ She replied sweetly. Having seen the boy become quiet rather suddenly she wondered if this had upset the boy so much. Perhaps, choosing something for the boy to call her would help; or a change of topic might.

Mathieu decided that for her rather quickly, "Do you speak French?"

"_I speak no word of your kind." _Mathieu became very puzzled. If she did not speak French, then how did she understand anything he said? Other than French, he only knew a little English and the tongues of his mother's people.

"_You have not yet realized that there is more to communicating than just sounds?" _She said as she tilted her head slightly in question. "_I have not been making a sound nor have I tried to understand the soft sounds coming from your mouth. But we understand each other perfectly because we are speaking with our eyes, our movements, our actions and, in your case, exasperations." _The boy nodded, it sounded unbelievable. Even, with proof right in front of him it still was too strange to be true. There was too much to understand with no teachers to guide him.

"Wolf?"

"_Hmm?"_

"The other night, how did you know that my name was Mathieu?"

The wolf chuckled and would have grinned if it were possible. "_You talk in your sleep little one."_

The boy's cheeks became even rosier than they were from the constant cold, "Oh… Sorry."

"_It is alright little one; I find it rather cute. But do not let it get the best of you; truths and secrets have a habit of coming out in one's sleep."_

~~O~~

In time, she had hoped the boy would get strong enough so she could take him out of the den and find someone who could help him get home. A pup of her kind she could care for; a sickly pup of another species was beyond her capabilities. But, quite the opposite was happening; Mathieu was getting weaker. He slept more, ate little, if any at all. During one of the few times she caught him awake she took the opportunity to ask about his wellbeing.

"_Little one? Are you alright? You have changed over the past two days."_

"I . . ." The blond's unfocused eyes were not directed at the grey wolf. They were not directed at anything in particular, lost in something unseen, "I can feel them." Well, that was an odd thing to say, completely unrelated to what she had asked. But whatever it was he was talking about was affecting him in some way.

"_Who is it that you feel?"_

"My people; I feel them." She did not know how to respond to this; one just does not 'feel' people. And just how was he 'feeling', there certainly was no other humans around. "The winter is harsh, their suffering…" Words cracked and shook as the child spoke, far too old for his years. He looked like he was crying but no tears came forth. "Angry. Cold. Hurt. Dying. That is why I see them in my dreams."

"_Dreams are dreams little one, they are not real-"_

"Mama always told me that dreams are reflections of your heart. And my heart is where they live," Mathieu interrupted. "My heart is where my people live. What I see is true." The statement hung in the air. "But, Mama said that I am supposed to help my people. How do I help them? How can I? I do not even know where I am."

"_Perhaps, when you get home you could ask your father?"_ She really had no idea how to answer any of the boy's questions. Maybe there was something wrong with the boy? This all seemed rather delusional.

The child finally looked at her, "Papa?"

"_He would know how to help, would he not?" _The boy nodded, calmer now. "_Then it's settled, once you return home you can receive all of your answers. But until then, your wellbeing is more important."_

Mathieu looked down, "I am very tired."

"_I know you have been sleeping more than anything else."_

"And… all torn up inside." His small hand grasped his rag of clothing that still managed to keep him slightly covered. His heart ached; his lungs were filled with pins and needles, and his stomach was in knots. Tears rolled down his cheeks. "It hurts," He whimpered, "W-why does it hurt?" The gray wolf approached him and softly licked his forehead.

_He's feverish. If this keeps up . . . _She refused to think further of the consequences, _No, not even now. I don't know what I can do for this small child; he needs the care of his kind._ Tomorrow, she would go looking for the humans that she knew that were at the other side of the forest. Anger them and hope that they would follow her and in turn find the boy. Taking him all the way to them would be too much and most certainly would be the end of him.

"_I don't know little one. Hang on, just a little longer."_

~~O~~

The wolf continued running through the deep snow. She knew she smelt a dog around, but where was it? Growling at herself she raced on trying to find the flea-bitten mutt. Why was it so hard to find it, it followed her here did not it? She pushed on. The snow had never stopped Wolf before and it was certainly not going to slow her down.

Jumping over a fallen tree hidden beneath the blanket of snow, she landed wrong; her footing slipped on a patch of ice and Mathieu squeaked a bit in surprise as he fell into the snow with the wolf. She was panting quite a bit, having run into the humans' home early this morning and only made it back at noon. Over many acres of land she had tracked; the constant running was too much for her body to take.

"A-are you o-ok?" Mathieu ask weakly as his body wavered as he stood up in the deep snow. It came up a little past his waist; the cold did not even come to mind anymore.

"_Yes, I am fine. Come, we have to hurry."_ She helped the small boy back onto her shoulders. Mathieu coughed dryly, even with the freezing air. His body was covered with sweat; his fever had taken a turn for the worse. Whatever was eating at him was only getting worse. Was this it? After everything, he was not even going to see his family one last time? That was all he wanted; was that too much to ask?

As she made her way through the frozen woods, she finally caught whiff of the hunter's dog's scent. She banked left and ran towards the scent. The scent got even stronger as the wolf tore through the snow. It seemed that the dog had lost her scent after so long and was now guessing where she had run off.

_I smell you mutt! Now where are you! _She growled lowly. At least the dog was persistent enough, or foolhardy enough, to follow her deep into the woods. It did not matter which in the end, it was here and that's what she needed, and what Mathieu needed. Speaking of the boy, he was starting to drift into a silent deadly trap. He was out in the cold for too long, it was now becoming too dangerous to continue. Wolf was pushing the limits, she knew, but had to keep going. The boy could not live with her any longer. Mathieu needed the human shelter, care and food.

She stopped. Mathieu's temperature was beginning to drop drastically; the fever could not keep up. The wind was picking up and she had lost the trail within that moment. Now she had nothing to go by, no tracks to follow.

"_Come, I have to get you warm."_ She said softly, carefully sliding the half conscious child off her back. Tucking her tail beneath herself, hind legs brought together to keep Mathieu off the snow. She did her best to use her thick pelt to block the wind. Looking down at the boy huddled into her fur. She felt remorse for the child, alone and sick in a world he did not know. Once the wind died down she would return to the den with him. Do what she could to help him and take care of him. Try again. If there would be a second time.

"I'm sleepy…" Mathieu mumbled.

"_Then sleep child."_ She whispered and curled around Mathieu more. His temperature was somewhat stable now, but was nowhere near warm enough.

"Could … could you sing, please? E-even if it's only for a little bit?"

"_Certainly, little one."_ Lifting her head up, she howled. She sang the song of the wolves through and above the wind. _At least I can do this for you. _

When the song had ended, the boy was asleep. And, she turned her head; it looks like she attracted a spectator. She glared. "_Is the growling really necessary?"_

The dog was at a short sprint away and cautiously circling the large wolf. But this was no small dog either, they were just slightly smaller. This was something Wolf had never done. Not that she would admit it, but she was nervous. If this dog did not listen, she may have to fight. And that would leave Mathieu with no protection from the cold. Wolf could not risk that; the boy may die soon without aid. She needed this to work. She stood her ground and did not move as the dog drew near, teeth bared and snarling. Many times the dog would leap close and look to bite. At that time Wolf would growl and bare her teeth in warning.

"_Why?"_ The dog finally spoke, standing in a defensive stance a little ways from the gray wolf. "_Run! Fight!"_

"_No."_

"_No?" _

_Typical mutt, poor in speech and a poor listener,_ The wolf thought bitterly. "_Yes, I said no. I am neither running nor fighting."_

"_Why? Wolf run, always!"_

"_Not this time. I require your help." _

"_I help no wolf!" _ The dog growled.

"_But you are female are you not?"_

"_Nothing to do with wolf." _

"_No, you are right; it has nothing to do with me. But," _Wolf then looked from the dog to Mathieu. "_It has everything to do with him." _Only now the dog noticed the small child and it seemed to stir something in the dog's mind. But, it faded before the wolf could figure out exactly what it was. Perhaps there was hope that this would work after all? "_I want you- no, I need you to take him to your master. He is dying and I cannot help him. Only one of his ki-"_

"_I not need to do nothing but kill you!" _She interrupted with a snarl.

"_As of the moment, I am of little significance you damned dog!"_ Wolf growled at the dog before her; fur rose in defence and rage. "_All I ask if for you to save this child and all you care about is your master's orders! At one point or another, you were a mother were you not? Race does not matter, every child is important; every child's life is worth saving! There is not many left in this world that still believes that, but being a mother you should feel that. Now, I will ask you again, will you take this child to your master so he has the chance to live and see his family again?!" _The dog's gaze remained locked onto the wolf's eyes, neither backing down nor saying another word. Only growling was audible. That is, until the dog began to crawl forward, tail high in the air and teeth remained bared. _No. __It's not going to work. I can't get through to this dog!_

Wolf was close to a panic, she could not fight. It would only make things worse for the boy. She did the only thing she could, hold her ground and protect Mathieu as best she could. The dog got closer and Wolf held her head low, continuing to growl warnings. She was not moving. Nothing was going to make her move. Nose to nose, they growled and threatened one another.

Until, finally, the dog raised her head up. "_Boy."_

It was the wolf's turn to be confused. "_What-?"_

"_Wolf no liar, true to word."_ She said sternly. "_I will take boy to master." _The female wolf did not know whether to be happy or angry for the dog to test her limits. But she carefully picked up the sleeping child from her paws.

"_Be careful, he can no longer stay awake for very long and has wounds on his back."_

"_Will be."_ The dog took Mathieu from the wolf and held him as best she could.

"_You will have to move quickly; he does not have much time left."_

She turned, just as the small boy awoke groggily, "W-wolf? What's going on? What's happening?"

The wolf came up to him and softly nuzzled his face. "_You will be fine now little one, soon you will be somewhere warm and you will get stronger."_

"Come with me wolf." Mathieu asked, pleaded. He did not want to be left with a stranger again. He wanted to be with a least one person he knew and trusted. He had only known wolf for five days but he trusted her the most right now. And he could not bring himself to let go of the one small comfort he had.

"_No, you must go alone."_

"No!"

"_Hush now… I will see you again. But you need this, you won't last out here. Do you understand that little one?" _Mathieu nodded, he hated it though; he hated having to be told to leave and that it was better that way. Last time, his mother was lost. He did not want the same thing to happen to Wolf.

"_Must go now."_ The dog said. "_Getting colder."_

"_Yes. Go and hurry, you have far to go." _The wolf nodded her head once.

The dog shook the snow off her fur and sniffed the air, "_Master close, no worry for boy."_

"_I thank you; I am glad that no one is always really as they seem from afar."_

"_Same here, wolf."_ With that the dog took off with Mathieu between her jaws. Wolf stood there and watched only to lift her head once more to howl her goodbyes.

_Survive little one and be strong. I could not bear to have failed again, to lose another._

"Goodbye Wolf." Mathieu whispered before closing his eyes.

~~O~~

"Where are you dog?!" The boy yelled into the distance; it echoed amongst the snow-covered trees. The dog had led them all the way out here for some wolf; it was hardly worth the trouble. He looked back to where they had come. If he did not leave now, he would not make it home before dark. "Bah, forget the blasted mutt. She will come back when she is tired." He said to himself, knowing that the dark and weather were not nearly as much a hindrance to her as it was to him. Many times she had run deep into the forest ignoring any calls to return only to make her way back to his home hours later looking for her dinner.

Rubbing his hands together and breathing on them to give them warmth, he started back for home. It was going to only get colder as this day went on, the warm days were leaving. He had not got far before he heard something running up behind him. He turned and looked down at the approaching dog trotting through the snow, bearing the scruff of some limp creature between her teeth.

"Finally gave up on that wolf, now did you, you stubborn creature. Now, what did you bring me?" The dog happily wagged her tail. He then blinked a couple times at what was in her jaws. Was that a child? Rage bubbled up in him. He would not have a dog that hunted people! Protection was another matter, but not going about and killing others for no reason was not acceptable. "You better hope on your life that you found her like that." He warned.

The dog cowered as her master stood over her and took the child. He held the limp body in his hands out stretched from his body. Filthy from head to toe and beneath the dirt her cheeks, hands and feet were bluish-purple from the cold. Small cuts and scratches littered the girl's body and her dress was in ruins. There was no sighs that his dog or any other similar animal had done this.

He frowned, _poor girl she must have suffered a lot._ "She doesn't look like she is from the village. And there are no others near enough." _Her body still contains a faint heat, so where did she come from?_ He flinched as he saw her eyes open for a brief second. _She's still alive!? How did she get all the way out here in the middle of nowhere?_ The boy's attention was then drawn to his dog. She whimpered and looked him in the eye.

"What? You want to keep her or something?" She barked softly. "No way, she'll be lucky to last for another five minutes. It would be best just to put her out of misery." He said this, but did not know if he could deal such a blow. He had never killed another person. The dog only continued to whine.

"I said no." He scowled and laid the girl down on the snow, pausing before standing. Would he just walk away, did he have the strength to do such a thing? "She's already gone. She won't make it." The dog yowled in a high painful pitch, obviously distressed, as her master walked away. He sighed and glared back at the dog, then looked back down at the child lying in the snow. It made him feel sick to just leave her, and guilt curled unpleasantly in his stomach. "Damn it all, I'll take her home! If she dies, don't blame it on me!"

* * *

Thank you for reading~!  
If you see any spelling mistakes or misplaced words let us know~! :D  
A big thank you to my beta MonEros!

**Chapter 6  
Pet**


	6. Pet

~Pet~

Dusk was setting in, only half way home now. Not a sound heard nor word had been spoken for a while now. The child he had been carrying over the past hours was tucked in best as she could be between him and his coat. It was not the greatest coat he had had, but it helped to keep the cold from nipping at his skin. And she was warmer now, which what was important. When he had first held her close to his chest, he yelped in surprise at just how cold she really was.

As he walked, he could feel her soft breathing against him. Every breath told him there was still life in her. And the longer she continued to breathe, the more wrong he felt for the thoughts he had of leaving her in the snow before. Had he really become that bitter?

Winter could be one of the cruellest punishments that nature could throw at the world. And he almost abandoned her in the arms of that cruelty.

'_Be a good and strong man, my son.' That is what Mother told me_. What would have she thought if he would have done such a horrible thing? She probably would have ashamed of him for a while, that much was for certain. She had taught him better than that.

But his actions from before, well, he was trying to learn on his own what it meant to be a good and strong man. Just like his mother had wanted, had needed; a man that would make the right choices. Especially now, with all the misfortune that clouded over his family.

With a frown he gently petted the girl's mangled hair. "Please forgive me." He said softly. "I'm sorry for what I had said before. I . . . I am not normally one to leave someone behind. But I will fix things, my sister is very good at healing the sick, you will be feeling better in no time. So just hang on till then. Okay?"

He did not know if the girl heard, but he could feel her pull closer to him, almost relaxing into his touch.

"Good." He smiled.

~~O~~

Curse the gods. Not only had he not made it home before dark, a snow storm decided to rip through. Trembling in the frozen white rain, he stumbled a bit as neared the door to his house. Reaching out his hand that he had been using to protect his eyes from the wind, he quickly shoved the door open. Both the boy and the dog ran in. And with one swift turn he kicked the door closed with the back of his boot.

As the dog shook herself free of the frozen flakes, he let out a sigh of relief as he sat at the small wood table. He could already feel some bit of warmth coming back to him.

"Novgor? Is that you?" A girl's voice could be heard and soft footsteps came closer.

He turned his head to greet her. "Yes, it's me."

"It's so dark out. Did you get lost in the woods when you went after the wolf, dear brother?" She giggled as she sat across from Novgor, who did not look at all amused. The only source of light was the small lamp sitting in the middle of the table, which made his countenance even more amusing to her. Though the redness of the boy's cheeks was from the cold, it appeared as if he was embarrassed by his sister's words.

"You are mean; you know that I never get lost."

"Oh come now, no need to call me mean when I speak the truth." The young woman only continued to boldly smile with her teasing. But her smiling ended when she took notice of his posture. Novgor was slouching and his arms were wrapped around his midsection. Her eyes quickly flicked upwards in worry. "Brother, are you injured?!"

Novgor looked confused by her question. "Injured? No, why would you think such a thing?"

"You are holding your chest like you are favouring a wound." He had to look to see for himself. She was right; it did kind of look like he was trying to ease a wound. But he quickly remembered the girl curled up in his coat. Novgor's gaze quickly returned to meet his sister's. She felt her stomach flip as she saw the look on his face, and the worry that suddenly filled her brother's violet eyes.

"Kieva, I need your help. We found a little girl in the woods when we were out looking for the wolf. She is badly injured."

"Let me see." Kieva lifted her chair swiftly, moving so she sat to face him. Bringing the lamp closer to the edge of the table to offer more light, then gestured for him to show her the child. With a nod he turned to face her direction, carefully unbuttoned his coat with one hand and revealed the little child, still cradled slightly in one Novgor's arms. Kieva's hand was brought to her mouth just as a small gasp escaped her lips. "The poor dear..."

Novgor look up at her in hope. "You can help her, right, Kieva?"

"I-" She looked up at him and then back down at the girl. "I don't know." He opened his month, but she stopped him before he could utter another word. With gentle fingers she took a closer look, pausing over the wounds and discolouration in the child's skin. "The wounds on her back look like they are infected. Her hands, ears, feet and nose are frostbitten." Kieva continued her examination and placed a hand on the child's forehead. "She has a high fever and her breathing is shallow. Novgor," Kieva spoke quietly has she gently uncurled a small hand with her thumb and scrutinized at the small, purple fingers.

The child's hands were already thawing from her brother's body heat, and were not turning black or stiff from dying tissue. Thankfully, amputation would not be necessary. Kieva had no idea beyond that how deep the damage was. The wounds on her back were red and swollen, but there was no pus. But, with the frostbite, the infection and the fever, it did not look good.

"I don't… even if she were somehow to survive this; she may not be able to feel or move her hands, may not even be able to walk."

Novgor was stunned. _She won't be able to use her hands or walk?_ Such basic things were needed just to survive. If she did live, would she be able to survive living like this? His hold on the girl tightened slightly. He had never intended to be right that she would not make it.

Kieva had risen while he was lost in his thoughts and began to stoke the fireplace with the last of the firewood. She bustled about, putting a large kettle over the newly awaken flames along with a small pot of broth. Requiring more water, she asked him to fetch a half-tub worth of snow while she went into the next room. Carefully, as to not wake her sister, Kieva pulled a few items from a trunk; a heavy, wool blanket, a child's nightshirt and similar. She returned to the main area to find that her brother had not moved, possibly still in shock, nor had he completely removed his coat.

"Novgor, it is not your fault." Kieva spoke to him kindly with a small smile. She knew her brother; he would beat himself up over this.

"But-" He started.

"You are trying brother, I'm sure she would be more than grateful for that." Kieva's smile became gentle; carefully she placed a hand on the teen's shoulder. Novgor looked her in the eye. He wanted to believe every word, he really did, but in his own eyes he had still failed the small child; there must have been something else he could have done. But there was still something he could do; he stood and handed the child to Kieva, grabbed the half-tub and headed out.

The wool blanket was quickly wrapped around the child. When she reached beneath the blanket, not willing to expose any more skin to the cold night air, to remove the tattered garment, it finally gave up the ghost and Kieva was left holding some fabric too destroyed to be even used as rags. Pouring the now warm water into a basin, and juggling the child in her left, she returned the empty kettle near the fire as her brother returned with the snow. It was added to the kettle as the blanket was carefully peeled from her back and the wounds washed with warm water and strong soap to remove any dried blood. They exchanged glances at the sight of the wounds. A cabbage was chopped up and turned into a poultice to draw out the infection. Novgor was left with the redressing as his sister had to tend to the almost boiling over broth. Shyly, he slipped the roomy nightshirt over her head and each arm while she remained tightly wrapped; a quick yank of the hem downward and he was finished, he hoped.

Having set aside the broth to cool on a trivet, Kieva had refilled the basin, along with another bowl, with fresh, warm water. It took some manoeuvring, but they got the child sitting mostly upright on Novgor on the bench, with her feet in the basin, her hands in the bowl on the table, and a cool cloth upon her brow to bring down the fever. Time passed and neither of them moved as silence enveloped them. They both took notice of the little girl finally stirring awake. Kieva looked down at the girl sweetly as possible.

"Hello there, little girl, can you tell me what your name is?" The sister asked as her finger tips tenderly brushed some hair out of the child's face. The act was gentle, but the reaction was not. The girl's eyes widened in shock and screamed as she flailed.

Kieva and Novgor jumped, equally startled by the child's response. Kieva tried to calm the child. "I-it's ok your safe here little one." But she only continued to scream. "W-why is she screaming?" It did not make sense; what was she doing wrong?

"Back away, Kieva and I will try to calm her down." Novgor said and his sister more than agreed. As soon as she was standing a fair distance away, Novgor turned to the screaming girl.

"There is no need to be frightened. Do you remember me?" He asked as he carefully turned her around so she would look at him. Her eyes were wide and tear filled. She had stopped screaming but was now trembling. With a kind smile he wrapped an arm around her in a tender hug and with the other, softly stroked her head. "Shh shh, don't cry. Don't cry; no one here is going to harm you. I promise, alright?"

Her trembling continued but she seemed to have calmed a bit. Her eyes began to get heavy and with that her body slowly became relaxed.

_I wonder why she screamed like that when she saw Kieva? Is she really in so much shock from what happened to her? _Novgor began to think of all the worst things that could have happened to her, or to her family.

"Novgor? How is she?" His sister pulled him to attention.

"Ah, I think she is going to be alright now. But approach slowly, okay?" Kieva did, but the little child tensed when the boy's sister started to come closer. Kieva frowned deeply at this. She started going over what they should do with the girl. Life could be hard with just the three of them. And to have another mouth to feed, as well as healing, could prove to be a burden to everyone. The child would require the full attention and help of one of them until she recovered, if she recovered. But, they needed all the hands they could get to take care of the homeland.

"Kieva?" A small voice mumbled. "What is with all the screaming? Did you find a mouse again?" Both siblings turned to look at their third member swaying at the door to the bedroom. She yawned and stretched, having been woken up with the commotion going on.

Novgor chuckled a little. "No, Pola. Kieva hasn't found another mouse… yet." A grin could help but find its way on his face.

"Humph. Yet indeed; but it was Novgor who found a 'mouse' this time." His grin faded, displeased with being teased.

"He did?" Pola asked looking oddly at her brother, glancing at the child in his arms, but seemingly having little interest. "That's not very brave of you, screaming over a mouse."

"I was not the one screaming, Pola." Novgor groaned, somewhat annoyed that his little sister would think he would be screaming like a girl.

"It sure sounded like you…"

"It did not-!"

"Enough." Kieva clapped her hands, putting an end to their argument before it started. "It is too late for this nonsense. Novgor, you will be looking after the little mouse and we are all going back to bed."

"What? I can't look after a child!" He protested. "It is a woman's job to look after children."

"And it is a man's job to look after the family. Don't think I'm doing this out of spite Novgor, but you seem to be the only one capable of helping her." Kieva spoke of what had happened only moments ago. It wasn't like she did not want to help her; it was just that Kieva frightened her. "I will help you in any way I can but you will be looking after her. Understand?"

"Have fun big brother." Pola stuck her tongue out at him as she giggled.

Novgor ignored his little sister's childish taunt. "Fine, let us just go to bed already." He agreed reluctantly as he stood up, but was stopped by Kieva before he could move any further. He was confused all of a sudden. "What?"

"Shouldn't you try to see if she will eat a little, if not, drink something before heading off to bed?" She hinted with a jerk of her head toward the cooling broth, before giving the teen a smile. Turning to Pola, they returned to the bedroom.

"Right…" He looked down to see if she had passed out again. As their eyes met, he got his answer. She looked like she was about to fall asleep again sometime soon though, it would seem that her energy was only available in short bursts. Not that he could blame the child. "I know you must be very tired, but do you think you can eat something before you rest?" She blinked at him slowly and did not respond for a moment or two. Then, strange sounding words came from the girl's lips. Though, sadly, he didn't understand any of what she mumbled.

Sighing softly, Novgor walked over to the cupboard; he might as well try to see if she wanted something a bit more substantial. Her mind could be a little foggy right now from her fever, though she should recognize the sight of food. The little lamp did not light up much of the room but he knew what he was looking for. Being careful not to handle the child too roughly as he held her in the crook of his arm. This left his hands free to break off a small piece of bread and dip it in the broth.

She was quick to realize what it was and reached out a hand to take the small offering from his fingers. He was a little surprised when she able to hold onto it, well even it was just for a moment, as the bread slipped from her fingers shortly after. Novgor caught it and brought it to her mouth.

"Easy there. Your fingers are numb." He said softly as the little child began to weakly nibble on the bread. For a child that might lose her ability to use her hands, she still tried even if she could not feel anything anymore. It made him smile a little.

Once the broth-soaked bread was gone, he proceeded to get her some water to drink. He grabbed his cup off a small shelf near the fireplace. There was still some faint heat coming off the clay walls, the fire must not have died off that long ago. He added chopping fire wood to the list of morning chores he would have to get done when the sun rose.

He found the pitcher close to the fireplace, hoping that the water was still a little warm at least from the flames' heat. Drinking something warm right now would probably be for the best. It was a little awkward once again while he poured some water. Novgor brought it to his lips to test the temperature afterwards, nodding to approve of the faint warmness of the liquid. It would do nicely.

"Here, try not to spill any of it on yourself." The boy helped her take small sips of water at a time, he took notice she was having a more difficult time staying awake than ever. Novgor tilted the child so she rested against his shoulder. "That will do for now. We will see if you can eat some more in the morning. And I will get Kieva to make you some warm milk too." He finished off the water himself and put the cup back on the shelf.

Picking up the lamp off the table, he then made his way to the bed room. Opening the door slowly, he did not wanting to wake his sisters if they have already fallen asleep. Carefully, not to make the floor boards creek under his boots, he walked to his bed on the opposite side of the room.

Upon stepping up to the bed his eyes narrowed at the thick sheep wool blanket laid on the bed. "Ah, that is where you disappeared to." Wavy, long, white fur swished back and forth as she waged her tail. The dog's nose just peeked out from under the covers. "Nice try. Out, dog. I definitely have a full bed tonight as it is." The dog hopped out of the bed on command and trotted out of the room, most likely to rest in front of the hearth until he fell asleep. When she got in the house, she would often join one of them in bed either as a foot warmer or something to cuddle with. He hoped that the dog would join one of his sisters tonight.

Setting the lamp down on the floor, he then pulled the covers back and laid her down softly. Her eyes were already closed as she was sleeping peacefully. The dog had made the bed warmer from hiding in it for a bit. Novgor took off his coat and tugged at his boots. Sighing softly before sitting down on the bed, looking over the child and thought of how he was going to sleep without accidently rolling on her or something.

~~O~~

He found that he could not fall fully sleep most of the night. He kept thinking that he crushed her at points, but he never did. Well, maybe once he rolled on top of her, but not enough to hurt her. The storm was gone and the sun would be up in an hour or more he guessed. He was not going to get any more rest so he pulled on his boots and got up with a shiver. It was so much warmer under the sheep wool and in bed. After tucking the girl back in, he pulled on his coat quickly and fumbled around for the lamp. He ended up kicking it and flinching at the loud rattling as it hit the floor. Novgor sighed and hoped he had not broken the glass.

The lamp had not broken and his sisters had not woken either. "I should go get that wood cut before they wake." He whispered to himself, Novgor wanted the house somewhat warm when they woke to start breakfast. The teenager snuck out of the room and found that the dog had stayed in front of the hearth all night. Closing the door he spoke to the white animal. "So, we have a lot of work to do this morning, dog. Let's get going, and you better not run off again." Novgor scowled at the dog, but she only wagged her tail happily and stretched before coming to the boy's side.

"You are never going to be scared of me are you? Even when you're in deep trouble," He noted in resignation. She barked happily, probably in agreement, and jumped up on him. He shushed her and moved away from the dog. "Quiet, you'll wake Pola and Kieva."

~~O~~

Kieva was the next to wake and the smell of wood burning and creeping warmth told her that Novgor had gotten up early again. She smiled; it was kind of him to make sure that the house was warm like this before they woke. Pola rolled into her just as she sat up, making Kieva giggle softly. "Pola, it is time to get up."

"The sun's not up so I don't have to." She mumbled and pulled the covers higher.

"That's because you're covering your head." The oldest spoke as if Pola had said something ridiculous and got out of bed. "You can sleep a little longer. But after I've finished milking the cows, you better be up and have the table set for the three of us." She slipped into her boots and went for her coat.

"I thought there was four now?" The younger girl replied, muffled from the covers still being over her head.

"Oh, that's right, the little girl." Still hazy from sleep, she had forgotten. She paused for a moment as the implication sunk in, "Wait! W-why is she in here by herself?" She ran out of the room, out the front door and into the snow. "Novgor!" He should have woken one of them.

~~O~~

For the first time in what felt like a long while, Mathieu felt warm and comfy and better than he had for quite some time. He wanted to sleep more, but his tummy wanted food. Slowly he tried to sit up, even though he was warm, most of his body was still numb. His head was also spinning and would not stop.

About six or seven more tries later he was sitting upright. He sleepily looked around the room. It was not very big, with only one window above him. There were two large beds, only a little further apart than Papa was tall, and one large chest in between. Mathieu's memory from last night was foggy, but he thought he recalled three people.

"Where is the family from last night?" He said softly, his voice a little hoarse. Though the room reminded him of his home with his mother, cozy and close together. Mathieu suddenly felt all alone, with no family and no people. He was back to wondering why everything happened. "M-mama..." But as he thought of his mother, his head hurt and Vitani suddenly screeched in his mind. Mathieu shut his eyes and held his head as he shook. "N-no, g-go away!... Go away." He whimpered.

A sudden voice inquired something he could not understand, making the boy jump. He opened his eyes; the first thing he saw, in his mind's eye, was not a person but Vitani's talons coming at him. He screamed and fell back into the bed, crying and called for his Papa. The voice came back louder than before, and more frantic, but somewhat annoyed. Mathieu hiccupped and opened his eyes to find a girl covering her ears while scowling at him.

"H-hello..?" He asked cautiously wondering where she had come from. The girl started into a rapid fire speech; Mathieu was reduced to staring helplessly at her, not understanding what she was saying. The only words he caught were mama, papa and something about screaming?

"U-um... C-could you please slow down? I can't understand you." He frowned and tried to sit up again, though he was stuck wiggling on his back like a turtle and wondering why was it so hard to sit up. His body felt like it was not his own, and some parts were tingling too. The girl queried something and looked like she was pouting now; she was not listening to him and kept talking. Minutes past as Mathieu continued to try and sit back up, why was not she going to help him? It was frustrating; could not she tell that he could use a little help?

He quickly yelled out his frustration on the girl. "C-could you please stop talking and help me please!?" The girl paused and then pulled Mathieu so he was sitting upright. It took him a moment to realize she was holding his hands, but he pulled his hands away to dry his cheeks. "T-thank you."

She was quiet now, just standing by the bed side watching him. She was taller than him, maybe almost twice his size? No, she'd have to be shorter than that. Her eyes were blue like his and Alfred's, but her hair was lighter and longer too. It went down past her shoulders from what he could see. She started to speak again, but again he only got one word. You.

"Me?" He asked and pointed to himself; she nodded. But when she did not explain, he asked. "What about me?" She huffed and turned to the large chest between the two beds, pulling out clothing, tossing wooden carvings, boots and a few items that Mathieu did not know but looked very interesting. Once she found what she was looking for, he could hear her small cheer of triumph. Returning to the bedside quickly, she held out a small looking glass. It was tiny, but it felt really heavy to Mathieu.

He was certainly surprised by what he saw in it; his face was so dirty and his hair was a mess. Alfred would have laughed until he could not breathe if he saw him like this. At the thought of his brother, he pushed down a twinge of sorrow. Instead, the small boy frowned, _I need a bath._ His belly then grumbled, _Ah, and something to eat too._ He continued to stare into the small mirror until he noticed something odd. His eyes were no longer blue and he wondered what had happened to them?

"They are purple, like . . . mama's." He spoke absentmindedly with a tiny, sad smile. His eyes had a similar colour to his mother's when she was protecting them. "Mama, are you still protecting me?"

~~O~~

"I can't believe that you left her on her own!"

"She was sleeping! What was I to do? Wake her and take her back out into the cold while I do chores?" Novgor questioned in anger as he piled up the last of the wood he had chopped this morning.

Kieva clicked her mouth closed and crossed her arms. It was not that she wanted her brother to take the child back out, just he needed to understand that a child that young needed to be watched over. And with the poor girl's condition, she would need a lot of help with just moving around.

Letting out a big sigh the eldest of the trio turned and started to walk towards the barn, a few pups chased after, "I'm going to get some fresh milk for breakfast. Now go back inside and look after her!" Novgor pouted as he watched his sister enter the barn. He then looked down at his dog that was currently sitting next to the wood pile.

"This is why men don't look after children. Women complain no matter what we do." He griped. The dog just wagged her tail and came to stand next to him. Whether or not she had understood anything that the boy had said, he would never know. But with the way her score was sitting, she was more of a house pet than a hunting dog. "Time to go see how the little mouse is doing," He turned and walked back to the house.

~~O~~

He could hear his sister talking when he opened the front door, closing it before the dog could come inside. _Is she talking to the little girl or just her dolls? _

"-So then the horse kicked me off and I went soaring through the air! Like this!" Novgor walked in as his little sister jumped off the trunk and belly flopped onto his bed. The other girl fell backwards from the impact on the bedding. "And boof! I landed in a great pile of snow!" Both girls ended up giggling, even Novgor smiled. "My brother and sister had to dig me out from how deep I had fallen in!"

"Telling tall tales again Pola?" The brother snickered as he walked towards the bed; he carefully avoided the mess that was laid out on the floor, most likely from Pola.

"I'm not telling any tall tales! They are all true!" She sat up on the bed and stuck her tongue out.

"Hm, is that so? Because as I recall, you fell off that horse in the summer and cried after you so much as scraped your knee." He smirked.

"I-I did not! I'm a strong woman, just like Kieva and mother." She said standing up to him defiantly. Novgor became quiet and his smirk dropped. His eyes stayed on his little sibling until he took notice of his little guest trying to sit up.

"Are you alright?" He wore a soft smile as he helped her. She replied with a few unfamiliar words with big round eyes, and then started to smile at him. He blinked in surprise. "What? I'm sorry, but I didn't understand what you said. Could you repeat that?"

"Nothing she says makes any sense, brother; it is like she's mumbling all the time." Pola informed him as she watched.

"Maybe she is only just learning to talk?" He suggested as he let go of the child carefully, not certain if she could hold herself upright on her own just yet.

"I was talking by the time I was her age." Pola said smiling with quite a bit of pride.

Novgor rolled his eyes a little and turned to the overconfident sibling, "You didn't say more than a word until a few years ago Pola. Now go help Kieva so we can eat." He shooed her away so he could have some time alone. He was determined to find out something about this mysterious child. Even just her name or how she ended up in the middle of the woods by herself.

* * *

Thank you for reading~!

I sincerely apologise for the length of time it took to get this up. Many things had happened over the past year for the both of us. Things should be getting a little faster from here on out.

A big thank you for all that have come along to follow the story and to those who continue to read. And a special thanks to my beta MonEros for sticking with me to help make this story even better, this story surely wouldn't be as great as it is today without her help. :D

As an added note, the story will now be slowing down now for a good few chapters. I hope you enjoy!

If we missed anything, please let us know.

**Chapter 7**

**Milkmaid**


	7. Milkmaid

-Milkmaid-

"How long is the little girl going to stay with us Kieva?" Pola asked as she hopped up onto the bench, watching as the eldest brought breakfast to the table.

"To be honest, I'm not sure." The young woman frowned softly and placed her sister's serving in front her. Kieva was still thinking that the child did not have a high chance of a full recovery. Pola started eating, but paused in thought as something came to mind.

Swallowing before opening her mouth to speak, she enquired, "How come you are having Novgor look after her? He doesn't know how to look after a baby."

"She's not a baby Pola; she is unwell and can't move that easily-"

"But why Novgor?" She persistently asked, interrupting her sister in the process.

"She doesn't… like me," She replied with a sad sigh. "It's just easier if Novgor takes care of her, all right?" Just then the bedroom door opened and the boy came in.

Taking notice of his siblings' eyes on him, Novgor simply said, "She's asleep." He then joined his family at the table.

"It is understandable." Kieva remarked, cheerfully bringing a smile to her face as she handed her brother his helping. "Rest will be one of the most important parts of her recovery. Just be sure to be there when she wakes up, she'll be hungry."

"I know that, you don't need to tell me." He replied with a yielding grumble and began to eat. The usual silence then fell over the small family as they ate. Their routine of the day had already started off abnormally.

After breakfast, the three went about their chores. Though there had been a snow storm the night before, winter was half over and they were preparing for the short spring. Most of their stocks were still holding strong, so long as the winter did not stay around longer than needed. They were running low on feed for their animals, but it did not pose too much of a concern yet. Adding to the stock sooner rather than later was always is the better action.

"Who do you think has extra feed?" Novgor asked Kieva as he shovelled out the horse's stall.

"Hmm, I believe that the Osin family might or maybe the Loban's." Kieva replied.

"Do you think we could offer up something to trade?" He leaned against the wood of the stall, his pitchfork resting on his shoulder. "We don't have much money left and I want to save it for the spring."

"We could see if one of them might be in some need for this," His sister heaved a bale of dry oat stock towards him while answering, "Or turnips; we have plenty to spare."

"That sounds reasonable," He replied as he tore the compressed bale apart and spread the stock. "Would you be able to stop by and see if they are up for a trade?"

"I think I'll have time this afternoon; I still have to finish that tread spool for Anya." Kieva stood there watching him with her arms crossed gently. She opened her mouth to speak, but then softly closed it deciding it was not the right time to ask and walked to the closed door of the barn. She fiddled with her fingers a moment before telling him one last thing. "… Don't forget to check on her after you're finished. I don't think it will be good to leave her alone."

"I won't!" He snapped heatedly and harshly placed the tool against the short wood wall. "Stop treating me like a child, Kieva!" Storming past her and out the door, he still had a couple more things to do before he was finished.

~~O~~

Once Novgor was as finished as he could be, seeing as his work more often than not easily carried on until noon, he returned to the house. He was still a bit irritated with Kieva; she was always trying to mother him. A boy cannot become a man if he is always treated delicately; at least that is what he believed. They have to fall and pick themselves up to become stronger or else when something truly horrible happens that boy will not be able to protect the things he holds dear. Novgor found he was lost in thought, staring at the floor and quickly shook his head. Looking about he took notice that the fire needed another log. It did feel a little odd to be adding more to the fire at this hour. The small family would not normally would not set foot in the home again until lunch or even a little later.

The boy then peeked into the bedroom quietly to see if the child had indeed woken up in the past three hours. He huffed out and quietly closed the door for she was still asleep. It did give him time to get some things ready. Around the time he had some water to boil over the fire, a thud sounded and succeeded in startling the boy. He bit his lip to keep himself silent and looked around the room for the source. Not finding anything had moved, he went to investigate. He opened the door to the bedroom just a crack to see if it had come from within the house or if it was something from the outside. The girl was on the floor tangled in the blanket; she was not crying but she did look deeply frightened.

Novgor moved over to her quickly and spoke softly, "It's all right; don't be scared." The poor thing must have tried to get out of bed. She wiggled around, possibly trying to get up as the boy grabbed her arms and carefully lifted her back up onto the bed, holding her steady.

"There," He smiled. It did nothing to reassure her as she still looked frightened. "Now don't look like that, you're not hurt-" Novgor stopped in mid-sentence and remembered that the child still had scrapes and bruises on her. Not to mention the infected wounds on her back. He put on a smile. "How are you feeling? Are you hungry?" At first she just stared at him, and then she spoke, the tone wobbling. Novgor frowned and glance at his feet with a sigh. It was no different than this morning; he could not understand a word she said. Looking up, he realized he should not have looked away. His attempts of calming her had been undone and now she was tearing up. "No, no, don't cry. It's not your fault. Don't cry."

Sniffling she held out her hands, her fingers weakly twitching. He looked puzzled as he tried to figure out what she was trying to tell him. The little girl's fingers then very slowly curled towards the palm, twitching as they went. But she never succeeded in what she had intended, it was clear on her face. Hiccups came as her tears fell and dropped her arms in defeat, her fingers half curled. He understood now.

The reason he did not hear a cry come after the fall is because she had used her arms as a brace. It could have possibly started out that she had intended to use her hands, but clumsily fell onto her arms afterwards. And that might have been the final realization that she could not feel her hands or arms. He could only imagine the horror that came from that. On top of all that it looked like she was losing more of her ability to move her hands as well.

_It is only a matter of time before she finds it is the same with her legs_, He thought sadly before doing his best to smile softly. "Let's get you cleaned up first."

~~O~~

Mathieu was still crying and staring at his numb hands when the boy had gotten up and left. But he was kind enough to make sure he would not fall again before leaving, even if the child did not really notice. He came back shortly after with a wood washbasin and two cloths. He set down the basin next to him as he sat in front of Mathieu, who looked up at him weakly as the boy dipped one of the cloths into the steaming water. It made Mathieu wish he back at home with his Papa in a warm bath with nice bath soaps and the little toys he would bring in the tub to play with. Mathieu jumped as a wet warmness touched his cheek and found that the boy was wiping his face clean. He would not deny that he was a little scared of his rescuer. He still did not know where he was or how to find his Papa.

The other boy stated something that he could not understand before he paused. Mathieu could see that he was trying to figure out a way for him to understand. Then the older boy's face lit up, Mathieu could only guess that he had realized something. He watched as the other closed his eyes and tapped his eyelid with a finger; Mathieu did not understand what he was doing. The rescuer would only open his eyes for a moment before doing the same action again.

"… Do you want me to close my eyes?" He asked softly before obeying.

Whatever the other boy had replied, he sounded happy and Mathieu soon felt the cloth come over his face again. Once his face was clean the other pulled his hand back and Mathieu opened his eyes. He found that the other boy was once again trying to find a way to tell him something. Mathieu found himself smiling at him; it was like playing a game and was very happy when the other's smile had grown. He then raised his arms up; Mathieu giggled and lifted his up as well. But felt a sharp pull on his shoulders that made him drop his arms, curling in on himself as whimpered in pain. He would have broken out into tears again if it was not for a gentle hand on his head and some soft words.

The boy then carefully started to pull up on the nightshirt. He helped him move his arms through the sleeves, without hurting himself this time, before removing it entirely. With it gone, Mathieu realized just how dirty he was. The cleaning continued shortly afterwards. But even with the warm cloth, he was shivering in his bloomers, which were no longer white from the days he sat in the Wolf's den. Mathieu watched as the dirt disappeared from his skin. Just as he was becoming calm again, Mathieu took notice that his hands and parts of his arms would not come clean. Surely it could not be that hard to get the grime off? To test this himself he rubbed his numb hands together as best he could. But no matter how much he rubbed, his hands would still not come clean.

Then he remembered the dream he had that night, the way the land looked; so dry and so lifeless, "A . . . dead land . . . is a dead spirit . . . my hands . . . why won't my hands do what I want? I can't feel- A-am I . . . am I dying?" He looked up at the other boy, whom was no longer smiling, only watching. Mathieu held his arms out in desperation. "H-help me, p-please, I don't want- Help me!" The boy only looked down at his damaged arms with a soft frown. Mathieu shook as he cried; a piercing, painful sorrow that consumed what little energy he had left. He did not stop as he was picked up into a hug. Nor did he not as he called out for his Papa.

"Shh shh…" The other hushed the child and swayed with him resting against shoulder in a careful embrace.

~~O~~

It had felt like hours before the little one had finally stopped crying. Novgor had done his best to comfort the child; he even mimicked what he saw mothers do when their babies and children cried, soft words and gentle swaying as he paced the room. In the end Novgor hoped that it had been enough. It was easier to comfort someone that he was able to understand, other than the word papa. But there was nothing that could be done about it.

When she had been reduced to hiccups and sniffles, he pulled the girl back to look down at her, "Everything is going to be all right. Just trust me and I'll take care of you." He smiled and picked up the cloth off the bed and wiped her face free of the salty tears. "So don't cry anymore." He sat down once again, but this time with the girl on his lap. Refreshing the cloth in the warm water, Novgor carefully washed the little one's back. He earned a flinch or whimper every time he touched the swollen skin. There was not much left to clean from last night.

Getting another round of clean water Novgor wiped down her legs, pulling her undergarments higher when needed, but otherwise did not touch them. Perhaps when the girl fell asleep once more, Kieva could change them; he would have to remember to ask her.

He had just finished drying her and was interrupted from his musing by the girl making a random gesture, "I don't know what that means." She made the gesture again and seemed to be trying to say 'Pola' of all things. Novgor pulled back on the nightshirt so she would not catch a chill and quickly fetched his younger sister.

Pola popped her head into the room and announced, "Potty time! You need to leave, Novgor."

"Wait, what?"

"I've been helping her use the chamber pot. Have you tried to?" He had not even thought about it.

Novgor then looked down at his tiny sister, "How?"

"It's easy, well not that easy, she's kind of heavy. I have her stand next to the pot and hold her up like this," She crossed an arm across her own chest to demonstrate, "And then I pull down her small clothes, hold up the back of her nightshirt and sit her down on it and make sure she doesn't fall over. I'm helpful! Now shoo."

"Do you think you could change her undergarments?" He asked, gesturing to the heavy trunk. Pola considered that for a moment and agreed. The little girl's gesture became a little more frantic. "Alright, I'm leaving," He replied before turning and walking out the door. Minutes later, Pola exited the room carrying the chamber pot and announced that she had been successful.

Novgor returned to the improvised bathing; the only thing that was left was her hair, which looked like it was going to be a hassle. He pondered on how he was going to accomplish this before looking around the room for anything that might give him an idea. His eyes came upon his pillow and he quickly snatched it. He placed it down in front of the basin and then picked up the little girl who looked up at him with frightened eyes.

"Shh, it's all right. I'm just going to clean your hair." He whispered to her as he laid her down on the pillow with one hand to help support her head over the water. This looked like it was a good idea after all, he smiled to himself. Her clothes and bandages would remain dry and she would not be uncomfortable. Sadly, the whole time she seemed to flinch every time he moved his hand.

It took a while to fully clean her locks, he was quiet annoyed with the small bits of dried grass and twigs he had to untangle. But, he was quite pleasantly surprised to find that her hair was a soft gold, like the oat fields at the end of the season rather than grimy, off-brown.

"Very pretty," He said in an attempt to ease the oppressive silence in the room. Possibly realizing that he found her mumbling incoherent, she had become quiet quite some time earlier. Novgor reached for the remaining dry cloth and as careful as he could be, began to dry the girl's hair. She was still looking at him with some small form of fear in her eyes. "There. I'm done. Everything is going to be alright now." He smiled at her. "Now, how about something to eat?"

~~O~~

Novgor noticed that the little girl was quite happy to be wrapped up in the warm blanket again; he could not blame her. At the moment, she was sitting on the bench at the table as he got some food together for her. Kieva had made enough breakfast for all of them, but he was sure that having it nice and hot would feel a lot better. As he was getting a bowl and some bread he heard the front door open. It was Pola who stuck her head in, along with the dog.

"How is she?"

"I think she is going to be just fine." He smiled at his sister. "She's sore and a little scared-"

"Scared? What did you do?" Pola walked over to him angrily, carrying a small pail in one hand. She had just left, after all. The dog took the opportunity to sneak into the warm house. "Kieva says that her not being scared of you is the only reason why you are looking after the baby! You're not supposed to be picking on her you know!"

Novgor just turned away from her and got the pot off the fire. He scooped some of its contents into the wooden bowl. "I did no such thing. I merely gave her a bath."

His sister walked over to where the small child was sitting on the bench to have a closer look. She gave her a scrutinizing look; the girl flinched in response. Pola did not notice, "Whoa, look at her hair! It's so pretty, I want hair like hers!"

He laughed. "I sort of thought the same. So why are you in here and not doing your duties?"

His sister looked up at him as he set the food on the table; she seemed to have forgotten for a moment, "Oh! I brought some milk; Kieva said the 'little mouse' might like some."

"Little mouse…We need to come up with a better name than 'little mouse' until we can figure out her real name." He took the pail from his sister and set it up onto the table. The child still bundled up in the wool blanket watching his every move. "Hmm…"

Looking at her now, her blond hair in the center of white wool, she looked like a tiny daisy, "Margaritka?" The girl seemed to be more focused on him now; he took at that as a sign that she liked it.

"You are fond of that? Margaritka it is then." Novgor, feeling quite satisfied about this decision, ripped bits of bread off a loaf and dropped them into the bowl. He then picked up Margaritka and set her on his leg, holding her with one arm to keep her steady. A small spoonful was lifted from the bowl and cooled a modest amount before he brought it to her lips. She was nervous, but Margaritka eventually took the offering. The teen smiled and gave soft words of encouragement, "There we go." After a few more tentative bites, Novgor turned to his watching sister, "You've done as you were asked, you can continue with your work now."

She huffed as she crossed her arms, "Why can't I stay? I just want to play with her…" Now-a-days, it seemed like her siblings were always too busy to play.

"Pola, she won't be able to play with you today; she needs to eat and rest. Perhaps tomorrow; now go watch the sheep before that wolf from yesterday attempts to snatch one again." He sighed and pointed to the door with the spoon still in hand.

"It's not fair that you get out of doing chores and get to play!" But she turned around and headed for the door. As she opened it, she glared jealously back at her brother.

"I am not playing- Wait! Don't forget to-!" However he did not manage to finished his sentence as the door was slammed shut; or as slammed as it could be by a nine year old. ". . . Take the dog with you . . ." He trailed off lamely, before turning his gaze over to the hearth where the dog was laying, "How is it you get away with everything, but I can't even come to bed late without being yelled at?"

She yipped and thumped her tail against the floor from his attention.

* * *

I am sorry for the lack of updates, things have been a little rough for both MonEros(beta) and myself. But I will do my best to post more quickly.

Thank you and let us know if we missed anything :)

**Chapter 8**

**Farmboy**


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